


Working Man

by AKMars



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life throws you one hell of a curve ball....and sometimes that's not a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Working Man  
Chapter I: Walk In The Park  
Rating: M (for future chapters)  
Pairing: Fusco/OC

Summary: Life throws us a curveball when we least expect it.....sometimes that's a good thing.

NOTES: I'm not sure exactly where this one came from. One thought was that our Detective Fusco needed some face time in the fanfic arena and a little longer story than I've done with him previously. Another was an OC that I'd been toying with in an original story I'm working on. Lionel's had a bad run of things lately and he needs a bit of happy, so for what it's worth....here's my take on that.

Most of the settings in Central Park that I will reference do exist, although I am playing fast and loose with park regulations in the name of creative license. 

**poipoipoipoipiopiopoi**

 

Detective Lionel Fusco's day was turning out better than he thought it would. He and Carter had just wrapped up a case and when he passed on his reports to the captain, his superior informed him that he had six hours of benefit time to burn if he wanted to take off early. To his credit, Fusco didn't rub it in with his partner. For her part, Carter seemed genuinely happy for him and suggested he get some exercise before his kid got out of school.

"Might help you lose a bit of that holiday weight..."

"Yeah, bite me Carter."

"Enjoy yourself, Lionel." His partner laughed in reply.

When he stepped out of the precinct building, the detective stood for a moment blinking in the bright sunlight. The unseasonably warm temperatures gracing the city of late made him re-think his decision to go home and he found his footsteps turning in the direction of Central Park. 

Thirty minutes later found Lionel parked on a bench next to the Bethesda Fountain. At this time of the day, the area wasn’t too crowded and the detective took his time enjoying the brats he'd gotten from a vendor just up the path. He regarded the bronze angel looming above the fountain, her expression benign as she held her right hand over the waters as if in blessing. Like most native New-Yorkers, Lionel knew the history of the sculpture and although he'd never admit it out loud; it was one of his favorites.

Fusco had taken too many wrong turns and seen more than his share of darkness in his life to consider himself religious but the times when he'd felt the most hopeless the detective had come here....usually after dark. Lionel had visited the angel when his divorce went final...after his first disposal for 'Mr. Sunshine' and most recently when he'd renewed his ties with the dirty cops. He grimaced as the last bite of his lunch stuck in his throat. 

That visit had him soul-searching like he never had in his life. Fusco was a decent guy in his heart and although practicality had led him to break some rules, the detective had enjoyed his brief return to the land of up and up. Partnering with Joss Carter had reminded him just how important good cops were...why he joined the force in the first place and he liked feeling that way about himself. _Liked_ being proud to have his kid tell his friends that his old man was a cop. Lionel had stood staring up at the angel that night, wondering if the story of the fountain having healing powers was true. 

_If this is some kind of penance for all the crap I've been mixed up in over the years God, then fine...just please let it count for something. Let me be around long enough to see my boy grow into a man and let me help him become a better one than I've been._

The detective had touched a finger to the water and then to his forehead, the skin cooling quickly as the moisture evaporated. Lionel held no illusions about his own life. Where he was now was about as good as it was going to get. If he managed to not get canned and stay alive, well...that would be a bonus.

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

Music blaring from in front of the arcade pulled Fusco out of his thoughts and back to the early spring sunshine. He turned towards the sound and saw a crowd of bystanders applauding some performance. Curious, Lionel disposed of his trash and wandered over to see what was happening.

A street performer dressed in a lion costume was trying to teach a group of kids to dance... _the hornpipe_ , Fusco thought, based on the nautical music pumping out of the portable sound system next to them. At last the four children got the basic movements down and the lion led them through the audience in a hilarious rendition of the sailor's jig. Lionel found himself laughing and clapping along with the crowd. When the music ended, the lion showed the kids how to take a bow and got the two youngest to carry around a can with a 'Please Help Feed the Kitty' sign taped to it, enticing donations from the people. 

When the little girl and boy came up to him, the detective put a five dollar bill inside and the lion got down on one knee, kowtowing to thank him for his generosity. The remaining crowd laughed as Lionel patted him on the head. 

“Nice kitty.”

The performer got up and pulled a carnation from a small basket next to the sound system and held it out, pointing to the detective’s lapel. Lionel, conscious of the audience watching him, allowed the lion to secure the flower in his button hole. It then leaned in close, just touching his cheek with its muzzle and made a loud kissing sound. Fusco laughed with the rest of the people as the lion bowed again, picked up the stereo system, basket and tip can and stepped into a small square tent. As the door flap fell closed it revealed a sign that read “That's All Folks!”

The crowd dispersed but instead of going with them, the detective stepped up to the side of the tent and read a promotional sign that was propped up next to it. A large color photo of the lion’s face was at the top. He read further...

Artemis T. Lion  
King of the Jungle 

Songs, dances and fun  
for all ages!

Fusco could hear movement from inside the tent and figured that the performer was changing and getting his stuff together. The detective retreated to his bench and kept a discreet watch on the pavilion, curious to see what the man looked like out of suit. He’d seemed professional enough while giving his show. _Didn’t give off a perv vibe anyway._

Lionel watched a kid run towards the tent, her mother doing her best to keep up.

“Art-mis?! Come out Artmis....I wanna play!”

“Honey, the show’s over...we’re too late.” 

The six year old’s lip began to quiver and tears filled her eyes....”but I wanna see the lion, mommy! I wanna see Artmis!!”

An auburn-haired woman popped her head outside the tent. 

“I thought I heard visitors.” She looked down and saw the little girl. “Oh....you missed the show didn’t you?” She looked over at the girl’s mother.

“Yes, we got started late.”

“Can I see Artmis?”

The woman got down on one knee to talk to the child.

“I’m sorry sweetie, Artemis has gone home already.”

“Why’re you here then?”

The woman smiled, winking at the girl’s mother. “I’m Artemis’ helper. He’s the star and I pack up all his luggage and take care of the tent. He did leave something though. Wait right here.”

She reached inside the tent and pulled out a button that had the lion’s face on it.

“Artemis only gives these to people who really want to visit with him and miss the show. Would you like to have one?”

The girl squealed and jumped up and down. 

“Alright then, I’m going to give this to your mom and she can put it on you, okay?”

“ 'Kay!!!”

The performer passed the button on to the grateful mom. “Thank you so much, ma’am.” She pinned it on to her daughter’s shirt. “What do you say, Fran?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Fran. The next time you come to see Artemis, wear that button and he’ll give you a high five.”

“Yay!!!”

The mother and daughter moved on and the performer watched them for a moment, smiling. She re-entered the tent, closing the flap behind her.

Lionel closed his mouth, only just realizing it had been hanging open all this time.

_Holy shit, the lion’s a broad!!_


	2. A Chick in Cat's Clothing

Title: Working Man  
Chapter II: A Chick in Cat's Clothing  
Rating: M (for future chapters)  
Pairing: Fusco/OC

Lionel closed his mouth, only just realizing it had been hanging open all this time.

_Holy shit, the lion’s a broad!!_

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

In the ten minutes it took the performer to finish packing and exit the tent with a wheeled trunk, Fusco had recovered from his shock and grown more curious than ever. He approached the woman while she was busy breaking down the pavilion.

"Excuse me, miss."

"I'm sorry the shows are over for today. We'll be back later on in the week." The street artist didn't bother looking at him as she stowed tent poles in their bag. 

"I know, I caught your last one."

The woman stopped working and she turned to look at him. "The big tipper." Recognition flickered in her eyes, giving way to suspicion. "Look thanks for your generosity, I appreciate it but I don't do private gigs."

Lionel realized she thought he was trying to proposition her and pulled out his badge.

"Not what you think, NYPD."

The performer's shoulders stiffened and she closed down even further. "I have all the necessary permits to be here, officer. I've paid my fees with the park board and I'm allotted this location Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays until the end of August."

Fusco put his badge away and waved a hand at her. "I'm not here to badger you, lady. I just wanted to see the man behind the mane....didn't figure you were a girl." He couldn't help the smug amusement that crept into his voice.

"That's the whole point, officer."

"It's detective, actually."

"Nice to meet you, Detective Actually."

"Fusco. Lionel Fusco. You always this much of a wise ass?"

"Briggs, Danni. Only to people who are hassling me."

Lionel frowned at her. "Whoa, hold on there...who's hassling you? I thought we were having a friendly conversation."

Danni narrowed her eyes. "Not from my point of view. You came over here to gawk at the freak in the costume. Now you know I'm female, you think it's even more funny. I work hard at what I do, detective and I'm proud of that."

"Take it easy, sweetheart..." Fusco held his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not your sweetheart, jerk. My name is Ms. Briggs."

"Hey....look." Lionel's head was beginning to spin. What had started out as simple curiosity was rapidly devolving into a shouting match. "Let's just stop right here. I didn't mean to offend you sw- uh...Ms. Briggs." _Damn, my mouth gets me into more messes._

The performer returned to packing up her tent. “Fine by me, although if that’s an apology it’s a pretty piss-poor one.”

“Geez, how do get that costume to fit with a chip the size of Brooklyn on your shoulder?”

Danni swung around, taking a deep breath in preparation for going off on the detective when she saw the grin on Fusco’s face, his hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. Realizing how silly the situation had become, the performer smiled back and started laughing at them both. Lionel joined in and held his hand out to her.

“Want to start over?”

Danni shook his hand and Fusco found himself liking the strength in her grip and the openness in her personality. Her gray eyes reflected the humor in his own. _She's beautiful...._

"Sure detective." The performer laughed again and returned to her task. 

"No offense intended but I was wondering why you do what you do."

“Why are you a cop, detective?”

Fusco looked at her, a puzzled expression crossing his face. “What’s that got to do with things?”

Danni shrugged. “I assume you like what you do or you wouldn’t still be on the force.” She caught the cop’s eye. “I enjoy performing, Detective Fusco and I’m good at it. In my book, that makes me better off than the thousands of people in this city who hate their jobs.”

The performer buckled the last of the straps on the wheeled bag and slid her signs into a flat pouch. She took a final look around the area she’d been set up in and nodded, seeing that all was clean.

“I’ll give you that, Ms. Briggs. And for the record, yeah, I do like being a cop.” _Most days..._ Lionel amended in his mind.

The street artist turned back to him. “So, can I also assume that you won’t be busting my lion's ass in future?”

Fusco laughed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Before the woman could reply, Lionel’s phone chirped. _Damn it...not now!_

“I gotta take this...you um...wouldn’t want to get some coffee or something...would you?”

Danni grinned at him. “In the interest of good police/public relations I think I’d be willing to do that.”

Lionel smiled back. “Great...hold on just a second.” He turned away, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah, Fusco.”

“Harassing those less fortunate than you, Detective?”

“What do you want...I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

“I need to speak with you about a very urgent matter.” Finch’s dry voice radiated displeasure.

“Yeah, well it ain’t happening right now.”

“I’m afraid it can’t wait Fusco...look to your left.”

Lionel did a half-turn and saw the small, bespectacled man standing about 30 yards away. The detective swore under his breath.

“Geez, can’t you two give me a break?”

“Your social calendar will have to take a raincheck, detective. We need to talk.”

“And if I say go to hell?”

“Do you really want to go there?” the ice in the other man’s tone quashed Fusco's rebellion at once.

“Alright...alright...just give me a minute.” He ended the call, turning back to the patiently waiting performer.

“I‘m sorry...look, something’s come up.” Fusco was surprised to see that the woman appeared disappointed. 

“Work?” 

“Yeah...um...would you mind...I mean, could I call you sometime?”

The street artist gave him a hard look, as if trying to figure out what his angle was. 

“How about this...I’ll be performing here again on Friday. Why don’t you stop by around 2:30 and we’ll have that coffee?”

“That sounds great...thanks. Nice to meet you Ms. Briggs.”

“Likewise Detective Fusco.”

Gathering her things the performer turned and headed back towards the atrium. She looked back over her shoulder at the entrance and waved at him. Fusco lifted his arm in reply and watched her disappear inside the building. He sighed, wondering if he’d actually be able to get back to the park on Friday. Danni hadn’t given him her number and to be honest, he’d not really expected her to. They’d only just met after all.

“A street performer detective? And a mascot to boot, really?” Finch appeared at his elbow, startling him.

“You watch your mouth, Mr. Friend of a Friend. The lady's got to make a living just like anyone else.” Fusco was surprised by his irritation at the other man’s words, seeing as he’d thought the same things only moments ago.

Finch held his hands up in placation. “Far be it from me to cast stones...besides, there are more important matters we need to discuss. Specifically, your inclination of late to follow me.”

"Yeah, well...I'm not the one you need to be talkin' to about that." Lionel's irritation was surfacing again. He'd really wanted to talk further with the performer. 

The billionaire regarded the police detective, his eyes narrowed. "I'm not naive enough to believe that you were watching me on your own initiative. What I want to know is who you're doing it for."

Fusco snorted in amusement, turning away to look back in the direction Danni had gone. "Like you gotta ask?"

"I want to hear you say it, detective." Finch murmured.

"It was your friend, Reese...okay?" Lionel swung around to face the recluse, his hands clenched at his sides. He fought down the urge to slap the man. "Be sure you tell him it was me who ratted him out. Don't sweat it though....I'm sure he won't kill me, right?!" 

Finch just nodded. "Thank you detective. I won't detain you any longer." He turned and limped back in the direction he'd come.

The detective swore long and colorfully to himself, pulling his phone out to check the time. "Nosy, paranoid, old, half-blind coot." He still had two hours before his son's school let out. Feeling less than enthused about his remaining time off, Lionel headed out of the park and boarded the subway to go home. He sighed as he sat down on the train, rubbing his eyes.

_Well, it was good while it lasted....._


	3. Investigations and Interludes

Title: Working Man  
Chapter III: Investigations and Interludes  
Rating: M (for future chapters)  
Pairing: Fusco/OC

NOTES: in the IM part of this chapter, I am taking liberties w/word abbreviations. Please, I beg of you o' text-heads, do not review me to tell me what I typed wrong. Thank you, lol! Also, I know this is Lionel’s story but Finch has to make more than a cursory appearance....and yes, smut is coming, I promise!

poipoipoipoiopipoipoipoi

 

Lionel moved through the rest of the day on auto-pilot, only pulling himself back to the present when Mickey got in from school and was ecstatic that he was already at the apartment.

"Wanna get some practice in before dinner?"

"You bet...how come you're home early, Dad?"

"Unused comp time." Fusco grinned at the delight in his son's voice. "Your old man's getting paid to play hockey with ya."

"Awesome!"

Lionel slung his arm over Mickey's shoulders, giving him a hug and laughed as they headed out to the paved lot next to their building. He wondered what his son would think of Danni; if they would ever get the chance to meet.

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Danni Briggs was confused. Back at her building, she paused and looked across the street into Prospect Park. The Spring Festival was coming up...she really should get her permit request in with the park board in the next week. It would be so nice to be able to walk to her venue for a change. _Come on girl....why're you worrying about performances when you've got a guy on your mind?!_

The performer exhaled and made the laborious trek to the top floor of her four storey walk up. Danni winced as she felt a slight twinge in her knee. _Damn it, I do not need this now._ She tried to settle her mind with the routine of unpacking, cleaning and hanging her costume up to air dry. Stripping, she stepped into the shower and sluiced off the sweat that accompanied spending three hours in a lion suit. 

When she was clean at last, Danni plopped down on her sofa and leaned back into the cushions, closing her eyes. She thought back to her conversation with the cop and smiled, remembering how she'd been ready to kill him at first. _He's just as touchy as I am and even more obnoxious...if that's even possible._ He wasn't overmuch in the looks department, but there was something about that 'against the odds-average joe' vibe he gave off. He did have beautiful eyes too, especially when he smiled.

Danni chuffed in exasperation and got up to find something for supper. _I’ve got rehearsal tomorrow and then....we’ll just see if Detective Mr. Fusco shows up on Friday. I’ll play it by ear then._

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Harold Finch was snooping. There was no other word for it, if he were truly honest with himself. It was a blatant breach of privacy no matter how he tried to justify it and to his credit the billionaire made no such efforts. He knew exactly what he was about and that his activities were merely for the satisfaction of his own curiosity.

The recluse was up to his virtual armpits in the recorded history of one Danielle aka 'Danni' Briggs. What he unearthed only led to more questions on his part. 

_Received a BFA in drama from Julliard in '96, W-2s from several professional productions in Atlanta, Boston, Philadelphia and New York...looks to be the start of a promising acting career...wait..._

Finch tapped at his keyboard and pulled up some old medical records. _2004-Automobile accident in upstate New York involving a drunk driver...both parents died at the scene...daughter sustained multiple fractures and a collapsed lung. In recovery for almost a full year and physical therapy for months after that._

Harold found court records and bank statements. _Civil suit against the driver and his insurance company. Settlement in the amount of...._ "My goodness...", he murmured. 

Danni Briggs was worth 2.5 million dollars at the moment. What in God's name was she doing performing in Central Park? The billionaire sat back in his chair. This was not what he'd expected. 

_Face it Harold....you are a snob._ Finch acknowledged this failing. When he’d observed the performer before calling Detective Fusco, the billionaire had considered what she did to be glorified panhandling. As such, he assumed her to be unambitious at the very least, if not downright lazy. 

Truth be told he took it for granted that he'd find she had arrest records for possession and drug use; perhaps even a stretch of homelessness before the woman would have 'turned her life around'. There was nothing, not even a parking ticket on the NYPD database. To learn instead that Danielle Briggs was a talented, intelligent individual who's career through no fault of her own had been taken from her, was sobering to the billionaire. 

Finch realized that he'd been rubbing the scar along his right thigh as he read the medical reports. The street artist seemed to be getting around just fine these days but Harold knew old fractures could lead to early onset arthritis and how painful that could be. _She's in her late thirties...if she hasn't started feeling it yet then she will soon._

Harold called up her bank records again. The settlement money had sat in a secondary savings account for the past six years, virtually untouched. It was as if the woman refused to acknowledge that it was hers. Her current checking account held a couple of thousand and her primary savings around five grand. _She lives very frugally..._ the recluse thought. _Her only real indulgence is the money she's spent on her costumes._

According to the transactions between herself and a business called CATalyst Creations, Danni had two characters; a lion and a bear. The bear costume was two years older than the lion and had undergone multiple repairs (as the invoices from its maker attested), finally being retired when ‘Artemis‘ started performing. 

A window popped up in the corner of his screen. Ms. Briggs had logged on to an IM service and was chatting with a friend of hers in Pennsylvania.

PAWS4: hey girlfriend!  
ESSEX9: hey yurslf...’sup?  
PAWS4: geez lady, learn to spell plzzz!  
ESSEX9: ;P anything up?  
PAWS4: maybe.... met someone  
ESSEX9: YES!!! TELL!!  
PAWS4: calm down...is a cop  
ESSEX9: pits...run away  
PAWS4: no, seems good...  
ESSEX9: tall, dark, hndsme?  
PAWS4: lol... ruff around edges... nice tho  
ESSEX9: like you, lol! so, been out yet?  
PAWS4: supsd to meet fri. get 2 know  
ESSEX9: dinner?  
PAWS4: joe, after show  
ESSEX9: LMK...hope goes well  
PAWS4: me 2... i think  
ESSEX9: wha?   
PAWS4: his vibe...diffrnt...idk  
ESSEX9: so, u like? shag n’ bag!  
PAWS4: lol guttrmouth!  
ESSEX9: tru (v.e.g.)  
PAWS4: night evil one.  
ESSEX9: ‘night, girl!

Finch felt his cheeks flush as he read the last few entries. The actor didn’t seem like a con artist at any rate. He needed to find out more. Unless a new number came up, he would have some free time to shadow Ms. Briggs. The recluse checked a few more items, made a substantial transaction and laid out his itinerary for the next day.

_Nathan would be laughing his head off at you, old man, if he were here to see this._ Finch had to smile as this thought crossed his mind. It was true that in his past the billionaire’d had a propensity to poke his nose, albeit from a distance, into others' relationships.

poipoipoipoiopipoipoipoipoi

_"Harold, you're worse than an old Jewish bobeshi, with your match-making."_

_"I just want people to be happy...settled. Happy employees are more productive, healthier, better investments for the company." The reclusive businessman huffed at his partner, trying to justify his vicarious interest._

_Ingram stepped up behind the smaller man, grasping his shoulders and squeezing them gently. “Mm-hmm. If you tell yourself that long enough, you just might start believing it.” Nathan bent down and rested his chin in the spiky hair of his partner. “Next thing I know, you’ll be trying to hook me up with someone.”_

_Finch turned in his chair, his blue eyes snapping behind his glasses. “No...you’re mine.” He stood up, resting one hand on the taller man’s chest. Ingram grinned back at him._

_“That’s what I hoped you’d say.” he replied, pulling Harold in for a kiss._

poipoipoipoiopipoipoipoipoi

Finch was stopped cold by this memory, a tightness in his chest causing his breath to catch. _Nate...._ It had been a long time since he’d thought of what he and Ingram had shared before the Machine and it's repercussions had shattered his world. The recluse had been a different person then, literally. 

There was a reason that the billionaire focused all his time and energy on helping the ‘irrelevants’ as he’d so casually termed them in the beginning. By changing the projected outcomes of the numbers that came up, Finch was trying to expunge some of his guilt at Ingram’s death. Nathan’s blood was on his hands just as surely as if he’d killed the man himself. In his darkest moments, the recluse had wished he’d never completed his creation. Then he’d found John Reese. 

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	4. Coffee and a Show?

Title: Working Man  
Chapter IV: Coffee and a Show?  
Rating: M (for future chapters)  
Pairing: Fusco/OC

 

NOTES: The name of the rehearsal studio Danni rents space at is pronounced MED-vesh and is a play on the Hungarian word for bear (as in a dancing bear). 

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Danni decided against taking her entire costume for her normal Thursday rehearsal. Considering it was a fourteen block walk from her building to ‘Medves Studios‘, she felt she needed a break. Schlepping Artemis' feet, hands and head was quite enough. The performer stopped at the family run bakery just up from her destination for a lemon poppy-seed muffin, her usual post-practice treat; arriving at the studio promptly at 9:45 a.m.

Danni let herself in and headed to the elevator. “Morning Mr. Murray!”

“Howdy Ms. Briggs!” Arthur Murray had been the studio’s janitor almost since it first opened back in the seventies. The old man never failed to greet her every time she came in to rehearse. “Did you hear the news?”

“No, what’s up?” The performer stepped in close. “Did another stage mom have a meltdown on Madame Ghislan?” she whispered.

“More’s the pity, no...Madame has finally sold the building. She called this morning to tell me that she would be in on Saturday to remove her things and then she was going straight to Florida on the first plane she can catch.”

“Wow! That is news. Any info on who the new franchise is and if we’re gonna get the boot?” Danni was worried. Scuttlebutt among the studio’s renters was that the building might get turned into either a gallery or retail space. _Like Prospect Heights needs another ‘boutique’!_ She thought.

“It’s a man and all I know is that he’s going to keep ‘Medves’ as a rehearsal studio. Other than that, well...he’s supposed to be stopping in either today or tomorrow to talk to the tenants.”

“Thank God for that. I’d hate to have to find a new practice venue. I really don’t want to travel to Manhattan!”

"Maybe he'll give those grunge-kids the heave-ho though..."

"Here's hoping, Mr. M!" Danni laughed, knowing how much the janitor hated the angsty, emo performance group that rehearsed in the basement rooms each week. 

What they called 'experimental theatre', Mr. Murray considered _"a bunch of loud music and obscene dialogue!"_. As open as the mascotter was to all types of entertainers, she had to admit that ‘URBANITIES’ tried even her liberal sensibilities of art.

Danni took the elevator up to the third floor and let herself into the studio furthest to the back of the building. The fifteen by thirty foot room may have been too small for a troupe to be interested in but it was perfect for an individual performer to use. The third, forth and fifth floors of Medves Studios were given over to private rehearsal rooms and although most artists preferred the front or middle studios on each floor, Danni loved having the entire back of the building to herself. 

Room G had three windows, two along the back wall and one on the left-hand side. The right wall was taken up entirely with a row of six foot tall mirrors. The hardwood floors were the perfect surface for her to try tricks with Artemis’ feet and being in the last studio meant that no-one would be passing by her door to get to the other spaces. 

Another reason she loved this particular room was the deep window sills. The one on the left-hand wall was directly above a power outlet and made the perfect staging area for her MP3 speaker dock. ‘Medves’ only boasted internal audio systems in the basement, first and second floor large spaces. 

Individual performers preferred to bring their own equipment and Danni’s most recent birthday present to herself had been an iPod and the speaker system. It was so nice not to have to haul CDs and a boom box around any more. Having no electronics in view also attracted less attention on the streets as she came and went from the studio. 

Danni unpacked her costume pieces, a couple of props she was experimenting with and set up her music station. Once everything was ready she started her stretching exercises, warming up for the next two hours she’d spend working on her new routine.

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Detective Lionel Fusco was finding it very difficult to concentrate on work. He'd been staring at the same text block on his computer screen for the past hour while his mind kept going back to his conversation with the street performer on the previous afternoon.

"Lionel!"

"What?" he started, looking over at his partner. 

Joss Carter shook her head at him. "Where are you at today? Your brain sure isn't in the same place your butt's parked." The dark skinned woman narrowed her eyes. "If I didn't know better I'd say you-"

"C'mon Carter, we got cold cases to sift through." Fusco started leafing through a stack of folders that the captain had placed on his desk that morning. 

"You met somebody.... _didn't you_?!"

"Carter..."

His partner got up and walked over to his desk, crossing her arms as she looked down at him. Lionel peered over the top of his glasses at her. "No...yeah, maybe...look, yes I met someone. Maybe I'll meet up with them again, I don't know yet."

"You dog!"

"Hey! I resent the implications in that. And" he lowered his voice. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread it around...you owe me you know."

Carter had the grace to look abashed. Fusco was right, she _did_ owe him. "What's she like?" Her curiosity got the better of her.

"She's nice...feisty though, she's got spirit and she's not afraid to stand up for herself." Lionel's voice held a tinge of pride.

"Sounds like a female you." His partner quipped. "So, you gonna see her again soon?"

"Well...now that you know. Would you mind keeping house tomorrow afternoon, assuming we don't get handed a new case of course?"

Carter shook her head again. "Another rendezvous in the park?"

Fusco grinned sheepishly. "Something like."

"Alright but if things work out, you have to promise that I'll meet her soon."

"Deal, now can we drop this and get back to work?"

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

Danni had just stopped to take a breather when she heard a quiet tap on the studio door.

“Enter.”

A slightly built man stepped inside the rehearsal room. The performer noted that he had a pronounced limp but even with that disability, he still moved with a grace that belied his apparent age. _He used to dance...I’ll bet this is the guy who bought the building._ He was dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a gray sweater. His hair was short and spiky and he sported a pair of round, wire-framed glasses. When he smiled at her, his expression was open and a hint of good humor lurked in his blue eyes.

"I hope I'm not interrupting Miss?"

"Briggs...please call me Danni."

"Pleasure to meet you, Danni." Finch sat down on the piano bench and regarded the woman in front of him. He'd watched her for a few minutes via his phone's link to the internal camera system before entering the rehearsal studio so he knew how hard she’d been pushing herself this morning.

"So you're the new owner?"

"Yes, I'm sorry...my head seems to be all over the place today." He held out a hand for her to shake. "Harold Drake, former dancer turned choreographer and now real estate mogul." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "I won't keep you from your rehearsal for too long. I'm just going around to all of the lessees to see if they have any concerns or questions about the new rental agreements." 

The billionaire offered her a copy of the document and Danni took it, politely leafing through the pages. 

"The rates aren't changing." He assured her. "Mostly it's just offering shorter contracts to those who'd like more flexibility. Other than that, it's the same as the previous owners'."

Danni smiled at him. "I appreciate that, Mr. Drake. I really like it here and I've got no complaints about the facilities or the management."

Harold smiled at her. "I'm glad to hear it. I know that you've been a client for the past three years and we'd very much like you to stay. Long-term, reliable renters are rare in the business."

The performer laughed knowingly. "Well, in my line of work I'm not likely to go on tour. This location is close to home and, as I said, exactly what I need.”

“Excellent! That’s what I was hoping for.” Drake paused, rubbing his neck almost embarrassed. “On a professional note, if you ever need any assistance fine-tuning your routines, I do have some experience with mascot performance.” He indicated the lion’s head propped up on the other end of the piano lid.

Danni’s interest piqued. “Really?”

Harold nodded. “I assisted several of my friends who were professionally engaged in such work when they were younger. Unfortunately, I can no longer lead by example” he indicated his stiff leg, “but I can help you with thematic elements and I've been told I've got a good instinct for sight gags.”

“I’d welcome a pair of fresh eyes. What is your rate?”

Drake held up his hand. “Please, you’d be doing an ex-dancer a favor by letting me help you. I‘ve got a business manager that handles all the rental paperwork and I‘d rather do something that involves someone‘s performance if I‘m going to putter around here during the day.”

The mascotter shook her head. “At least let me buy you lunch on the days when we collaborate. There‘s some great cafes in the area.”

“That sounds fine. What are you working on at the moment, if I may ask?”

Danni pulled up a chair and started explaining the focus of her newest idea. 

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

Mr. Drake insisted that she stay for an extra thirty minutes past her time. _“Please, I interrupted your work and no-one else has this room until three o‘clock.”_ He thanked her for allowing him to intrude on her morning and left to go back down to his office. 

Danni found herself staring at the closed door, lost in thought. The new owner was an enigma but she had to admit, he knew his stuff when it came to mascot work. Drake had a natural sense of comedic timing and made some suggestions to the new act she was working up that frankly would never have occurred to her...but were sheer genius when she put them into practice.

_If he’s serious about assisting me then this could take my work to a whole new level._ The artist’s goal was to branch out into charity and benefit event work, doing indoor stage routines and eventually working up to better venues.

When she started packing up her things, Danni found her thoughts going back to her meeting with the detective in the park yesterday. _I hope he does show. I’d really like to get to know him a little more._

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

Mickey Fusco watched his dad through the half-open door of his bedroom. The detective was sorting through his closet, pulling out shirt after shirt and holding them up to his chest as he looked in the mirror.

Lionel kept scowling at his reflection, finally alternating between a pale yellow and medium blue.

“Go with the blue, Dad. Yellow makes you look sick.”

“You spyin’ on your old man, Mick?”

“You got a date or something?”

“Mickey....” Fusco looked at the boy in the mirror.

“Cause it looks like you’re getting ready for a date.” Mickey was grinning at his father.

The detective put the shirts on his bed and turned to his son. He watched the boy’s face for any sign of disapproval. Contrary to what he feared, Mickey seemed delighted.

“How would you feel about that?”

“Is she nice?”

“Yeah, she is. Pretty too.”

“You meet her yesterday?”

“Anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?”

Mickey grinned again. “Yeah, you Pops...every day.”

Fusco laughed. “I met her when I was in Central Park yesterday. I’m supposed to see her again tomorrow. So I’m asking you again...that okay with you?”

His son shrugged. “If she’s nice and you like her then it’s fine with me.” The boy’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Will you tell me all about it?”

Lionel snagged him in a headlock and scrubbed his knuckles over Mickey’s scalp.

“What I _feel_ you should know, punk.” 

His son grabbed him around the waist and they fell back on Fusco’s bed, wrestling.

“So, yellow makes me look sick, huh?”

“Like jaundice sick.” Mickey slipped out of his father’s grip and tossed the yellow shirt at him.

“Jaundice?”

“We learned about it health class the other day. Your skin gets all yellow and your liver...”

“Enough! I’ll wear the blue.” Lionel held up his hands in surrender, gasping as he laughed.

“Good call, Dad.”


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Working Man  
Chapter V: First Maneuvers  
Rating: M (for future chapters)  
Pairing: Fusco/OC

 

NOTES: Thanks to all who’ve taken the time to give me feedback on this story. The idea popped into my brain a few days ago almost fully-formed, which is why I’ve been able to crank out so many chapters so quickly. I will be going back and picking up FCIP and To Be Determined (new chapter also in progress currently) just as soon as I exorcise my Fusco plot-bunnies. 

There will be M rated stuff coming soon. I'm one of those authors that likes a little plot with my porn and unless a pair is an established relationship when I first start a story, I prefer a more realistic build up to intimacy instead of ‘hey I like you, let’s go bump uglies!!’ Thank you for your patience and indulgence and now, on with the show:

 **poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

That first blast of cooler air rushing in when Danni popped her head after a performance was bliss. It lowered her temperature a few degrees almost instantly as the sweat evaporated from the diveskin she wore. _Anyone who thinks mascotting is easy is an idiot!_

The performer hung the smiling lion’s face from a hook attached to one of the tent poles and pulled off her soaked balaclava. Danni removed her paws, slipped out of the costume’s feet and carefully unzipped the bodysuit, turning it inside out before securing it on a hanger. Flipping the switch on her battery operated fan, the street artist stood there in the lycra undergarment letting the air currents cool her body down.

At least she didn’t have to deal with her cold-pack vest as well. Early Spring and all of Autumn were her favorite seasons to perform outdoors. The weather was just right and the humidity low, perfect for performing in suit. Danni sat down and took a deep drink from her water bottle, glancing at the watch she’d strapped to the handle of her wheeled cart. Two p.m. 

_Thank God, there’s a full half-hour before Mr. Detective is due, if he shows. In fact, I might wait and break down the tent until closer to that time. If he offers to help, points for him._ The performer grinned at this thought. It was just as good a litmus test of a new guy as any other she’d tried in the past. 

Feeling a bit more energized, Danni stood up again and shimmied out of the tight one-piece skin, bagging it securely to be washed when she got home. As for herself, _wet wipes and a damp towel will have to do. At least I remembered deodorant._ That would be her second trial for Fusco; how he handled her post-performance appearance. 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Lionel made it to the Bethesda Fountain with five minutes to spare, pausing on the other side of the square to catch his breath. He didn’t want Danni Briggs to see him blowing like a steam engine because he had hurried to be on time. Fusco inhaled deeply, willing his heart rate to slow and was relieved that the performer appeared to be inside her tent. Artemis’ publicity sign was turned backwards but still leaning against the structure and that meant she hadn’t left it unattended.

He finally convinced his heart not to go into cardiac arrest just as Danni stepped out of the tent, pulling her cart with her. Lionel studied her for a moment. She seemed a bit more tired than she had on Wednesday. Clutching the cone of green paper he’d brought with him, the detective strode over to where the woman was just starting to take down the pavilion.

“Uh, hello again Ms. Briggs.”

Danni turned to him and Lionel was pleased to see her smile in recognition. “Hello yourself Detective Fusco.”

He laughed with her and held out the tissue-wrapped bundle. “These are for you.”

The performer looked surprised as she took the small but very tasteful bouquet of flowers. It was a nice mix of several types of blooms and she held it up to her nose inhaling the wonderful floral scents. _Damn, points to the cop._ Danni thought.

“Thank you detective. That was very thoughtful and I am glad to see you again.”

Lionel smiled back at her and once again the street artist marveled at how the expression made his eyes twinkle. 

“Can I help you pack up your tent? I’m not great at camping, but I’m really good at doing what I’m told.”

_Bonus points...._ “Thanks Detective, I’d appreciate it.”

“Please...call me Lionel.”

“Alright, thanks Lionel...and it’s Danni.”

“Glad to lend a hand, Danni.”

Fusco _was_ good at taking directions, it turned out. He didn’t question the performer on her break down procedure or on how she wanted the canvas folded. _So far he’s batting a thousand...._ Danni thought as they wrangled the bundle of fabric into it’s stuff bag. _I hope it lasts._ When everything was packed up, she turned to the detective.

“That’s it Lionel, shall we grab some coffee now?”

“I uh, was thinkin’. I know you’ve done a couple of shows today and you gotta be tired and probably hungry. Would you like to get a late lunch? That way you could sit somewhere comfortable too...I mean...if you want.” The look on Danni's face let him know he was right on target.

“That sounds wonderful. It has been a busy morning.” _Gruff but sweet..._

Thank you God, I seem to be doin' okay. Fusco smiled in relief and took the handle of Danni’s bag. “There’s a couple of good places just outside the park, you like Chinese?”

“Love it! Lead on Lionel.” 

The detective offered his free arm to Danni and the performer did a small double-take before slipping her hand in the crook of his elbow. 

He felt her fingers tighten for just a moment and Fusco’s heart skipped a beat. _This might turn out alright after all...._

 **poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Harold Finch was....puzzled. He’d returned to the library Thursday afternoon with a curious sense of separation from his usual self. Admittedly, being able to change back into one of his beloved and familiar suits helped ground him again from his foray into ‘the arts’. Danielle Briggs was now even more of a conundrum to him than before.

After spending time with her in the guise of Mr. Drake, the billionaire had to admit that he liked the woman. Harold hadn’t intended to get so involved with Fusco’s potential paramour but Danielle's spirit had captivated him. The actor put in a lot of hard work on her shows. She was constantly striving to improve and didn’t just rely on a couple of stock routines. His offer of assistance to her had been spontaneous and Finch was surprised and pleased that she’d taken him up on it.

_“I haven’t done a robot theme for Artemis yet and I found some music that is just the right length for a short piece...well, let me play it for you; I’d love to know what you think.”_

The track was two and a half minutes and for techno music had a very easy to find beat, as well as a catchy repetition of melody. Finch had found his toe tapping along without realizing it. He’d agreed with Danni that it would work and they’d talked about some possible ideas to pursue with it.

_“If you had another person to work with, you might consider a ‘mad-scientist’ scenario. Your partner comes out in a lab coat with a remote control box and brings the robot lion to life. Just as he gets a bit too erratic with his dancing, the scientist could shut him down at the end of the song.”_

 _“Mr. Drake, that’s brilliant!”_

Danni had been ecstatic at the concept and genuinely grateful for his input. Truth be told, it had been very enjoyable bouncing ideas back and forth with her. The performer had a lively intellect and a sharp sense of humor. When he realized at last that he' been monopolizing her time, the recluse had felt more like Harold Drake than Harold Finch.

Harold rubbed a finger over his lips as he thought about the situation. With everything the billionaire had found out about Ms. Briggs, he was inclined to step back and let nature take its course. Detective Fusco was obviously interested in the woman and she seemed to be attracted to him as well. 

Finch also knew that he’d be returning to the studio, not to meddle further in the performer’s budding relationship but because he _wanted_ to see her again. Due to the necessity of maintaining the fiction of his demise and the nature of the work that he was engaged in, the nearest thing he’d had to a friend in years was John Reese. The recluse was reluctant to let his operative in too close for fear of disrupting their working relationship. 

Getting to know Danni better, perhaps enjoying a friendship with her, would help fill a void that Finch hadn’t acknowledged within himself...until today. The billionaire missed the casual conversations and closeness of being with someone that only wanted to share his company. Not because they wanted to cultivate a resource or pursue romantic entanglements but simply because they _liked_ him. With Danni being female and attracted elsewhere, she was also safe. There would be no danger of this new friend wanting to take things further.

If he was careful and avoided interaction with Detective Fusco, it could be done. Finch was determined to try.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Lionel and Danni were ushered to a back booth in one of his favorite restaurants, ‘The Golden Phoenix‘. He let the performer order first, taking note of what her favorites were. She liked to try new dishes every time she had Chinese, as did he and so they each got different combinations so they could trade samples. 

Although many times when he’d visited the ‘Phoenix’ before the detective would get a beer, he refrained today. Lionel figured that Danni wouldn’t be drinking since she had all that gear to lug home.  
.  
They talked about books, Lionel finding out that she liked everything from Dickens to decently written fantasy. And Danni was pleased to learn that Fusco enjoyed classic movies just as much as she did, laughing as she realized they were probably at the same showing of ‘Double Indemnity’ last year; screened by an independent movie house in Brooklyn specializing in film noir re-runs.

“Shades of things to come, I guess.” The performer grinned.

“If ya see me there in future, sweetheart....just whistle.” Lionel replied, in his best Bogey voice.

Danni laughed again, resting her hand on Fusco‘s arm.

The detective couldn’t believe how easy this woman was to talk too. He’d never been able to charm the ladies like some of his friends could. For Lionel to feel so comfortable with Danni was a revelation. _Please, please let her want to see me again. She seems interested but God knows my radar has been busted for a long time..._

Danielle Briggs was having the best meal with the best dinner partner she’d had in a very long time. Lionel was so open and easygoing compared to other men she’d been out with. He’d been very matter of fact when he pulled out his glasses to read the menu. _Extra points for him not being vain._

When the waiter brought the bill, Lionel paid it without turning it into a grand gesture. He offered her first choice of the fortune cookies too, raising an eyebrow to see if Danni would read hers out loud. The performer’s lips twisted into an ironic smile and she cracked open the crisp wafer, pulling out the slip of paper and holding it up to the light.

_“You have a winning personality which will bring you much success.”_

“In bed!” They both quoted in unison, then burst into laughter at the coincidence. 

“Alright _Mr. Detective Actually_ , what does yours say?”

Lionel popped his glasses on again, opened his cookie and squinted at the paper inside. "Geez, can make this writing any smaller?"

"Quit stalling!" Danni teased him, munching on the sweet vanilla-flavored cookie.

_"Remind yourself that the lion while hunting, doesn't roar."_

"I take it you're not a 'screamer' then?"

Fusco blushed to the roots of his hair, making a show of putting his glasses away before looking over at his companion.

Danni was grinning at him, fully aware of how her comment would be taken and not at all fazed by it.

"Yeah well, some things you only find out after you really get to know me."

The performer broke up laughing and Lionel couldn't help joining in. Danni's fit of giggles lasted for a full ten minutes before she and the detective were able to pull themselves together. She gasped as she tried sipping water to sober up.

"God, I'm sorry Lionel...that door was wide open and I just had to tap dance right through it."

Fusco mopped his face with his handkerchief. It had been a long time since he'd had a laugh good enough to bring tears to his eyes. He looked at Danni across the table. Her expression was open, happy...hiding nothing and clearly very content with where she was and who she was with. Lionel felt something inside of him ease...a tension that he’d carried so long it had become a part of him, loosened in his chest. 

The constant demands on him by Reese, the fear and uncertainty of re-connecting with the crooked cops and being absorbed into HR had for a couple of hours taken a backseat to the enjoyment he'd felt in the performer's company. Fusco knew he wanted to see Danni again; as many times as she would agree to.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Lionel accompanied her down into the subway station and waited with her for the train. He turned to the performer and felt his mouth go dry. He’d had such a wonderful time with this woman, he was desperate not to screw things up now. 

“Listen, Danni...I really enjoyed being with you today. I wanted to know...wondered if you’d...”

“Would you call me Lionel?” She held out a small slip of paper to him. “I’d really like it if you did.”

The detective took it, holding on to her fingers for just a moment before pocketing the paper with care. 

“When should I-”

The train pulled into the station and opened its doors, disgorging a riot of passengers. Danni leaned in close so she would be heard over the noise.

“Anytime you like Lionel. I’m very glad you showed up today.” and she kissed him on the cheek before slipping into the subway car.

The doors closed and Fusco saw Danni’s face at the window. She held up a hand to the glass and mouthed “goodbye.”

He raised his own hand. “Bye Danni....” Lionel whispered. 

The detective stood on the platform and watched the train disappear into the tunnels, speeding on it’s way back to Brooklyn. He let out a deep sigh of contentment. Lionel turned his steps back up to the streets and the bustle of his city. 

Fusco pulled out the slip of paper Danni had written her number on and smiled when he realized it was the fortune from her cookie. He laughed as he watched the activity around him...New York really was a wonderful place to live.

 

_FYI: both of the fortunes I quote in this chapter are taken from cookies that I've really gotten._


	6. Tag....You're It

Title: Working Man  
Chapter VI: Tag...You're It  
Rating: M (for future chapters)  
Pairing: Fusco/OC

NOTES: Well, I seem to have lost some of you with my last chapter, I'm not sure why. For those readers who are still sticking with the story, here goes nothing!

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

**Wednesday, 10:58 a.m.**  
 _"Danni, it's Lionel Fusco. I was gonna call you a couple of days ago but we've caught a case and thing's are crazy right now. I really had a good time Friday...and, well I just wanted you to know. I'll talk to you as soon as I can. So...um I hope you're doing alright...take care, Danni. 'Bye"_

**Wednesday, 1:46 p.m.**  
 _"Hi Lionel...it's okay. Do what you have to do and be careful. Call me when you can."_

**Wednesday, 5:06 p.m.**  
 _"Hey Danni...I got your message. I'm glad you called back. I'm up to my ass in investigations and suspect interviews. I'm hopin' we'll get things wrapped up this week. Say hi to Artemis for me."_

**Wednesday, 6:08 p.m.**  
 _"Hey Detective Actually. Tag, you're it (laugh). Being a cop isn't a nine to five, I know that Lionel. Just be safe okay. Artemis says hi back and...he misses you."_

**Friday, 3:29 p.m.**  
 _"Hey Lion-Tamer Briggs... I'd be worried if any cat other than Artemis said he missed me, but seein' he's a friend of yours I know he's kosher (laugh). We're getting close to solving this and...hang on... (muffled voices). I gotta go, Danni, something's up. Um...I miss you too."_

**Monday, 12:32 p.m.**  
 _Hi Lionel...I know you're probably busy. I just wanted to say I'm thinking about you and hope you're alright. I'm here if you need to talk...or anything. 'Bye."_

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

Any way he looked at it, the past two weeks had been pure and unadulterated hell for Lionel Fusco. The case he and Carter had been handed found them following up leads in filthy back alleys, run-down crackhouses and trading insults with various gangs. Just when they'd caught a break and hauled in their perpetrator, Mr. Sunshine had summoned him to assist with his own business.

And literally, when he was in the middle of picking up the phone to make a date with Danni Briggs, his uniformed friend told him that HR had a 'package' for Fusco to dispose of. Even Carter had been acting out of late. From the mutterings he'd caught from her, the detective thought it might have to do with Reese but he was too irritated with the man at the moment to try and warn him.

Fusco had dragged himself home and pausing only to kick his shoes off, fell into his sofa. The detective closed his eyes, listening to the silence of the apartment echo around him. To cap it off, Mickey was away until Sunday afternoon with his hockey team for an out of town game series. Lionel was exhausted, dispirited and up to his eyeballs with having practically the whole world look down on him.

He pulled his cellphone out of his back pocket and was just going to power it down when it rang. Fusco groaned and hit the answer button on reflex. "Yeah, what is it?"

_"Lionel?"_

"Danni..." the detective's eyes snapped open. "God-damn, it is so good to hear your voice!"

_"Likewise Detective Fusco. How are you feeling, you sound tired."_

"Like a football, pounded hard and dropped in the mud. Look, Danni I-"

_"I understand..."_ Lionel could hear the empathy in her voice. _"I figured that things had gone from crazy to worse on your case. Is it wrapped up?"_

"Yeah, finally. I want to see you so bad but I'm afraid I'd fall asleep on you. Even I know drooling on your date doesn't impress 'em much."

_"If you'd like company, just tell me where you are...if you want to, I mean."_ , Danni's tone was uncertain. 

"Would coming to my place be too scary for a second time out?" Lionel held his breath, worried that she might think he was putting the moves on her.

_"I know where you work, detective...I think I can trust you."_

Fusco gave her his address and she promised she'd be there soon. He ended the call and sighed. He wanted to hold the performer close and not let her go. Lionel closed his eyes and savored the knowledge that Danni was coming to see him for a full sixty seconds before he bolted off the couch.

"Shit, this place is a wreck!"

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

John Reese was...curious. After being at loose ends for three days following the conclusion of their most recent number; Finch had left him a terse message to come to the library. When he entered the main room, the recluse's workstation was deserted and the monitors dark.

The op wandered through the stacks and looked into a couple of the back rooms.

"Finch?"

"There's no need to shout, Mr. Reese." The billionaire appeared from behind the shelves that John had just checked.

_He's getting better at that..._ "Do we have another number, Finch?"

"Not as yet..." The recluse limped over to his beloved computer terminals and took his chair.

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure of this summons?"

"Sit down, Mr. Reese. We need to discuss something."

John obligingly followed, choosing a chair opposite his employer.

"What's up Harold? Am I clocking too much overtime?"

Finch stared at the other man for a moment, as if trying to figure out a different life form. "What concerns me is the overtime Detective Fusco is accumulating by following me."

Reese's eyes narrowed slightly. "If you would tell me what's wrong, I wouldn't have to resort to having Lionel tail you."

"I've told you, it's nothing that affects you or our business."

"If it has you worried then it does affect me, Harold." The op leaned forward, tapping a finger on the table between them.

"I need you focused on what we're doing, Finch. If you're distracted by some other problem, even for a second, it could mean the difference between saving someone and failing."

The billionaire's voice grew icy. "Thank you for being so open in expressing your lack of faith in my abilities. I'm perfectly capable when it comes to compartmentalizing, Mr. Reese...I've done it for many years."

_How dare he?_ Finch was fuming inside. _I pulled his alcohol-soaked ass off the streets; gave him his life back...and he has the temerity to lecture me about focus?_

"But you don't _have_ to, why don't you understand that?"

The edge of desperation in Reese's voice pulled the recluse out of his thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

The op stood up and stepped in close to the smaller man. Finch pulled back in his chair, instinctively trying to maintain his personal space.

"What do I have to do, Harold?" John leaned down over the recluse, bracing his hands on the arms of Finch's chair. The op's eyes searched his boss' face.

" _Tell_ me what you need to hear from me to get you to trust me...to realize that we are on the same side. I don't know how else I can show you, so I'm asking _what will it take?_ "

The billionaire's mouth opened and closed as Finch struggled to make some reply. He couldn't help darting looks at the hands imprisoning him within his chair.

Reese noted the recluse's glances and with a curse backed away from him.

"You're afraid of me aren't you? Even now...even after all we've done together; after you getting me through being shot." The op's eyes were dark with emotion. "I'd never hurt you, Finch. I don't know why you won't believe that."

Reese turned on his heel and stalked out of the library.

"John..."

But the ex-CIA man had already gone.


	7. Food For The Soul

Title: Working Man  
Chapter VII: Food For the Soul  
Rating: M for Sexual Content  
Pairing: Lionel Fusco/OFC

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

When he heard the bell, Lionel leapt for the intercom panel. 

"Danni?"

_"Yeah, it's me."_

"Hold tight, I'll be right down."

_"Don't be silly Lionel, just buzz me in. I'll come up."_

"Alright, come on in." The detective hit the button that opened the front door.

A few minutes later he heard a soft knock on his door. Fusco breathed into his palm. _We're good..._ He opened the door to see a smiling Danni carrying a large pizza box and a six pack bottled beer.

"Room Service, Mr. Detective Actually. Comfort food of the masses, pepperoni and libations from the micro-brewery around the corner.”

“Danni, I don’t deserve you…”

The relieved pleasure in the detective’s voice made her laugh. “I know but I do it all the same.”

Lionel stepped aside and she entered his apartment. 

“Kitchen or coffee table?”

“Coffee table but I’ll break out the real plates.”

“I love a man with class.” Danni followed him into the kitchen and cadged a fork to go with her plate and napkin. She stopped in mid-stride on her way back to the living room, staring at a photo grouping on the wall. 

“Lionel, you have a son?”

 _Shit……_ The detective sighed. He’d been so worn out from the past two weeks that Fusco completely forgot Danni didn’t know about Mickey. _This could be the deal-breaker moment….earlier than I thought it would come up._

Lionel set his plate and napkins down on the coffee table and turned to his visitor.

“He’s nine and his name’s Mickey…well, Michael James Fusco. Danni…we didn’t really talk about family last Friday and I know finding out I’m a single dad is a big deal.”

The detective waited while the performer absorbed what he was telling her. She gave him a searching look. 

“Divorced?” her voice was quiet.

Fusco nodded. “Yeah. It went final about two years ago.” He took a deep breath and motioned her over to the sofa. “Wanna sit down?”

They settled onto the couch and Lionel took another steadying breath, figuring he would come clean with everything and let the chips fall where they would. 

“The truth is my ex and I never should have gotten together. She didn’t realize being a cop’s wife would be tough and I wasn’t the best at talkin’ about stuff back then.”

Danni watched the detective’s face as he recounted his ill-fated marriage. 

“Mickey was born three years after we tied the knot. I thought having a kid would help ground us but…..to be honest Danni, I’m surprised she stuck around until he was seven.”

Fusco’s voice hardened. “She left us both; doesn’t want anything more to do with our boy. I can handle her not wanting to stay with me, but to do that to Mick……”

The performer covered the detective’s hands with her own. “I like kids, Lionel…you know what my job is. If I didn’t, I’d never have started mascotting. I’d like to meet Mickey sometime, if you’re okay with that.”

 _What the?!?!_ “You don’t feel like screaming and runnin’ the other way?” the detective was dumbfounded. “I’d love for him to meet you, Danni. He knows we’ve been out and he’s asked about you a couple of times already.” Fusco laughed. 

“He’s a good kid. He told me as long you were nice and I liked you that it was okay if we saw each other.” His expression sobered. 

“I don’t really date around because I don’t want him to have strangers come into our lives and then leave all the time. It’s too much like what happened with his mom.” When the detective met her eyes again, he smiled. 

“I think you guys would get along great.”

“Sounds like he’s got a good head on his shoulders, just like his old man.” The performer squeezed his hands then held out her arms. 

Lionel leaned in and let her hold him close, his arms wrapping around her. _Please God…I really like this woman. Don’t let her turn out to be a serial killer, okay?_

“Where is he now?” Danni asked, letting him go.

“Hockey game, out of town. His team’ll be back on Sunday. He’s crazy about the ice.”

“The next in-town game he has that you go to, mind if I tag along?”

“I’d like that, very much.”

Lionel cleared his throat, thinking that he should probably lighten things back up.

“Listen Danni, I remembered you said you liked old movies…you wanna watch something while we eat?”

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Detective. What did you have in mind?”

Fusco pointed to a bookcase of DVDs. “You pick, since you supplied the chow.”

The street artist whistled appreciatively. “Wow and I thought I had a lot of flicks!” She looked over her shoulder at Lionel. “I am seriously impressed….you’ve got things in here I’ve been trying to find for ages.”

The detective smiled at her admiration. He was rather proud of his movie collection and had gone to great lengths to get some of the discs he had. “Grab what you’re in the mood for and let me know if there’s anything you want to borrow.”

“Don’t throw temptation in my way, Lionel.” Danni browsed through the shelves a moment and then pulled a case out. She grinned at her companion.

“Based on our phone conversation earlier, I think some mindless frivolity is the ticket right now. How about this one?” She showed him her choice.

“Perfect!”

Danni handed the movie to him. “Before we eat, I just have one question Lionel.”

Fusco looked at her apprehensively, noting her frown. “What’s up?”

“Why are you still in a blazer and tie?”

“Well, you said you were coming over and…” his voice petered out as she shook her head at him. Danni pointed to her own attire of a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.

“Look at me, am I dolled up to the nines?”

“Uh….no.”

“Then why, as Mae West used to say, don’t you go slip into something more comfortable?”

Lionel laughed, the last of his tension draining away at the performer’s words. “Okay, okay, I give. I’ll be right back.”

The detective returned, wearing a polo shirt and jeans and they settled in on the couch to watch the movie Danni had picked. Lionel looked at her out of the corner of his eyes and sighed happily, helping himself to some pizza. It was amazing how one phone call could trump fourteen days of misery.

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

The performer started awake, her head jerking to the side as she came back to consciousness. She looked down to see Lionel’s curly hair filling her lap and smiled fondly.

“Hey, detective…”

Danni skritched her fingers over Fusco’s scalp. “Wake up sleepy-head..”

“Mmmmpph…..Danni?” The detective blinked up at her. “What time is it?”

The performer looked at her watch. “Three a.m.,” she replied, yawning hugely. “No wonder I’m tired.”

Fusco became aware that the warm softness beneath his cheek wasn’t a throw pillow and sat up. “Geez, I’m sorry!”

His companion laughed. “Don’t worry about it Lionel. You look really cute when you’re out of it, did you know that?”

The detective blushed. “It’s three in the morning though….I don’t wanna sound like I’m going all caveman on you but I wouldn’t let my worst enemy get on the subway at this hour.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not suggesting anything but you’re welcome to sleep here tonight. I’ll bunk in Mickey’s room and you can have mine….if that works for you. I just changed the sheets and everything.”

To his relief Danni smiled at him. “Thanks Lionel but I can kip on your sofa, there’s no need to-“

Fusco shook his head, standing up and offering her his hand. “No trouble and that way you get your privacy.”

“Alright, if you insist…my mother always told me to never argue with a cop.” She laughed, stepping in close to him. “Are you feeling better?”

Lionel took both her hands in his and held them up to his chest. 

“Night and day difference, Danni. Getting to see you really turned my day around.” Feeling bolder than he would have in the daylight, Fusco leaned in to kiss the performer; hesitating just for a moment so she could turn her cheek to him instead if she chose to.

To his relief, Danni’s mouth met his own in a slow, deep kiss. She traced her lips along his jawline to his ear, her breath sending pleasant shivers down the detective’s spine. 

“I’m glad to hear that Lionel, because you asking me over made my day too. Goodnight.”

“Night Danni.”

He watched her cross the apartment and enter his bedroom, closing the door behind her. Lionel sighed. If their meeting had been a casual encounter, he would have followed her to see if more intimate activities might be on the books. As much as he wanted to be with the performer though, Danni was becoming too important to him to risk pushing her away with an ill-timed advance. 

“Sweet dreams, Danni-girl.” He whispered to the door.

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

Danni stood in the middle of Lionel’s bedroom and wasn’t sure if she felt disappointed or pleased that the detective hadn’t raised the possibility of their sleeping together. On the one hand, the performer appreciated that he hadn’t taken it for granted her coming to see him tonight meant they would have sex. 

On the other, she was feeling a definite attraction to the detective. Watching one of her favorite screwball comedies with him had been tremendous fun. The few times she’d tried putting on ‘Some Like It Hot’ with previous dates, the men had commented endlessly on Marilyn Monroe’s physical attributes or gotten bored ten minutes in. Lionel had engaged her in a lively discussion of the music, the stereotypic gangsters and even Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis’ performances. 

Although he’d not said anything out loud, Danni had noticed that whenever Marilyn was on screen, the detective had stroked her arm or shoulder with his fingers. _I think he’s interested and if he’s not pushing then he’s looking for something more than a one-nighter._

Feeling much more relaxed thanks to this train of thought, Danni removed her clothing and padded over to the chest of drawers. If Lionel was typical of most men in his habits, his t-shirts should be in the second drawer down... _bingo._ She found an oversized and well-worn navy colored T with the NYPD logo on it. Pulling it over her head, she was pleased to note that it came just about to mid-thigh.

Danni slid into bed and rolled over on her side. The pillow smelled faintly of Lionel’s aftershave and she took a deep breath in through her nose, wrapping her arms around the down filled bag. Being in the bed of a man she was attracted to and wearing nothing but one of his shirts was arousing her, to put it mildly. She felt a tingling between her legs and imagined that Fusco was with her. _I know it’s been a long time but geez….you are one horny lady, D._

Unconsciously, her hand traced the outline of her breast through the soft cotton and Danni gasped when her fingers found her nipple, already beginning to tighten as she pictured the detective’s hands on her in place of her own. The performer reached down between her legs and was surprised by the dampness she felt. _Damn girl, you’ve got it bad….._

Biting her lip to keep from crying out, Danni pressed seeking fingers between her labia, stroking her clitoris; imagining how it would feel to have Lionel touch her there. She drew her legs up against her body as she stroked herself harder, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerve tissue at the core of her being. 

The street artist couldn’t help the quiet moan that slipped out of her. In her mind’s eye, the detective was spooning her from behind, one hand teasing her breast, the other busy between her thighs. Danni gasped and felt the muscles of her vagina contract around her middle finger as she orgasmed. _Sweet God…._ she exhaled as she relaxed, hands falling away from her body. The performer stretched out on the mattress again. Giving into the drowsiness she was feeling, Danni drifted off into sleep…wishing Lionel was with her.

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

Detective Fusco closed the door to his son’s room. He stripped down to his briefs and then settled into the twin bed, grinning at the thought of spending the night with G.I. Joe and his team. Closing his eyes, Lionel couldn’t help but wonder what Danni would be sleeping in. _I should have pulled out a shirt for her or something…maybe she’ll think to look for one._

This led him to imagining what she’d look like in her underwear and he felt a tightness in his crotch. He couldn’t help it. He was already wired a bit from the movie. Fusco had always had a weakness for Marilyn Monroe and he knew from the few times Danni had leaned against him that she had the same warm softness that Ms. M appeared to.

Lionel rolled over on his side, the tightness in his briefs developing into a full-blown erection following his train of thought. _Damn it, Fusco! Well…you’ll be in misery if you ignore it._ The detective stripped out of his shorts and using them as a makeshift rag, wrapped his fingers around his penis and started to stroke himself slowly.

Fusco screwed his eyes shut and pictured Danni naked next to him. He could feel her soft skin against his body and her hand sliding over his stomach, to grasp him in warm fingers. Lionel increased his rhythm, hips rocking as he pushed against his own hand. He imagined settling between the performer’s thighs and slipping inside her warmth. Lionel moaned as his hips jerked again and he came into the wadded up cloth in his hand.

Wiping himself clean, the detective let his soiled briefs fall to the floor and he lay on his back, weary and somewhat satisfied. Sure, he’d taken the edge off and would be able to sleep now but handling things himself wasn’t nearly as pleasant as sharing them with someone else would be… _someone like Danni._ He nodded off to an image of her curling up against his side.


	8. Of Toil And Strife

Title: Working Man  
Chapter VIII: Of Toil and Strife  
Pairings: Fusco/OFC, Finch/Reese  
Rating: M for sexual themes

NOTES: This sub-plot with Finch and Reese has pushed it's way to the front of my brain and won't let me move on to more Fusco-ness until I exorcise it a bit. I found myself thinking 'what if'.....wouldn't it be plausible that John would have at least one moment of self-doubt, of asking himself 'why bother'?

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi 

 

After walking out on Finch, John Reese had spent the better part of his night roaming the streets of Manhattan. The op slipped past the security patrols with contemptuous ease and headed to a secluded corner of Central Park to think. 

Perched on a rock outcropping, Reese’s dark overcoat blended in well with his surroundings. He was tired...of having to prove himself, of pushing, of _trying_. His anger at Finch had burned out hours ago, to be replaced by a quiet melancholy that was only enhanced by his isolated location. John had also turned his phone off when he left; going so far as to remove the battery and stash it in his shirt pocket. The last thing he wanted right now was to hear the recluse’s voice in his ear

Even the thought of a new number coming up wasn’t enough to reach him in his present mood. _What’s the point? If my supposed ‘partner’ doesn’t trust me, believe me, then how can I expect perfect strangers to?_ The ex-CIA man seriously considered dropping the mobile device off on the library’s back steps and leaving the city altogether. John rested his head on his knees and let his mind go blank.

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi 

 

Harold paced the main floor of the library. It had been almost twelve hours since John had left and his phone had been untraceable the entire time. The fact that a new number had not surfaced was not the issue. Reese was supposed to be available at all times just in case. For him to choose now to go ‘off grid’ was intolerable.

“I told him in the beginning that I was a very private person...he should respect that.” The recluse muttered to himself as he did another circuit of the room. “He’s asking too much from me, from our partnership.”

_Can you really blame him though, old man? He’s got a point about your problem with 'trust issues'. How long have the two of you been working together? When has he ever let you down in all that time?_

“Stop....” he told himself, pausing to look out a window once again to the city streets, hoping...praying to catch a glimpse of Reese’s lean figure.

By the time another hour had passed, the billionaire's self-control had frayed so much that he couldn't stay put. Calling up his car service, Finch navigated the stairs to wait at the building's back door for his driver. He had to go somewhere. _Anywhere_ was better than staring at an empty doorway, waiting.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Danni rolled over with a sigh as she awoke. She blinked a few times and was confused as she tried to figure out where she was. _Lionel's place...we fell asleep watching the movie last night._

The performer smiled and stretched, loosening up her muscles. She had slept very well, considering she was in strange surroundings. _Well, my unorthodox 'nightcap' helped I'm sure..._ Throwing back the covers, she looked at the clock; eight-thirty. She hoped Lionel wasn't waiting on her...she had no idea how early or late a riser he was on his days off. Danni cracked open the door and stuck her head out.

"Morning, Beautiful. How'd ya sleep?"

The detective moved to stand on the other side of the door, his eyes bright and mirroring the smile he wore. The street artist felt herself responding in kind and she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Very well, Mr. Detective; and you?"

"Just fine Danni. How you take your joe?"

"Black, hot and strong enough to kill a mule."

"Well then, just as well I came prepared." Fusco pulled a full mug of coffee from behind his back and held it out to her. "Bathroom's free if you want to shower. When you're ready, come into the kitchen and we'll eat."

Danni took the cup from him, brushing her fingers over his. "Thanks Lionel and hey..." she leaned forward and gave the detective a quick kiss. "Good morning yourself, Bright Eyes." She disappeared back into his bedroom and Fusco felt his smile grow bigger as he returned to breakfast duty.

When the performer emerged from the bathroom, the scent of frying bacon lured her to the detective's side. "Mmmmm....that smells great. You didn't have to do this Lionel, I would have been glad to help." 

Fusco laughed, shaking his head. “Guests keep the cook company in this house, eat what they’re given and are polite when asking for seconds.”

“What about helping with the dishes?” The performer asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Lionel rubbed his cheek against hers, kissing her temple. “Participation on that front is greatly encouraged. You like French toast?”

“Dear God yes!”

“Then prepare to enjoy it _ala Fusco_.” He carried heaping plates of bacon and steaming bread to the table. “Sit down ma-dom-moi-sell, seel-voo-playz.” The detective topped off both their coffees and Danni was pleased to see that he’d put out honey as well as maple syrup.

“Mickey likes honey too.”

“Your kid has excellent taste, Mr. Detective.” The performer took a bite of French toast and closed her eyes in bliss. “Nutmeg!”

“Wow...nobody’s ever gotten that without my telling them.” Lionel was impressed, winking at her when she opened her eyes again.

“I love nutmeg. Almost everyone else pours on the cinnamon but nutmeg works better with the eggs, I think.”

“Exactly!” Fusco pointed his fork at her. “I’m glad I’m dining with a discriminating lady of refined tastes.” 

They talked and ate their way through two hours without realizing it. When Danni reluctantly mentioned that she had to rehearse in the afternoon, Lionel recognized her regret that she had to leave. _She wants to stay and if she could, I’d spend the whole day with her....and the night again._

“It’s okay Danni. Would you like to get together next week?” 

“I’d like that a lot.” She hugged him. “I had a great time last night and this morning. Thanks for giving up your bed yesterday and for breakfast today.” The performer pulled back and stroked his cheek. “You’re a really special guy, Lionel; you know that?”

The detective felt his cheeks flush and he reached out to cup the side of her face.

“You’re pretty special yourself, Danni Briggs.” He bent his head to her and she met him halfway, the performer’s mouth moving on his with a growing intensity.

Lionel’s hand slid down Danni’s arm to wrap around her waist, pulling her close against his chest. She rested one hand on his shoulder, the other slipped around the back of his head to tangle in his hair. She traced his lips with her tongue and the detective opened his mouth willingly to her.

Their kiss deepened, tongues gently exploring each other and Danni felt her body responding to the detective’s warmth. She made a quiet sound as Lionel’s mouth moved over her neck to capture her earlobe. _“Li....”_

Fusco breathed in her ear and pulled back, sucking in a deep breath. “I know you have to go, but I don’t want you to.” He rested his forehead against hers. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone Danni, even casually. I want you to know, you’re not casual to me. I....” he grunted in frustration. “I ain’t good with words, Danni-girl but I’m beginning to care about you an awful lot.”

“Those words sound pretty good to me, Lionel. Just so you know, the feeling’s mutual.” The performer hugged him tight once again before stepping back.

“Walk you to the subway, Ms. Briggs?”

“Such a gentleman.”

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

For no reason that he could put a name to, Finch found himself at his Brooklyn studio. He’d had his driver take him to one of his many apartments and wait while he showered and changed. Dressed in a mauve twill shirt, black waistcoat and khakis the recluse now sat in his first floor office at _Medves _, staring out the window at the back alley.__

There still had been no contact from Reese and his op’s phone hadn’t yet come back online. Finch’s anger had given way to a vague depression. He thought if Reese was going to leave that he’d tell him at least....but this silence was unsettling. A quiet tap on his door pulled him out of his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Drake? I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Ms. Briggs, please come in.” Harold got to his feet with a minimum of awkwardness and limped over to her. “What may I help you with?”

“I just wanted to drop off my signed lease. I hate having paperwork hanging.”

Finch thanked her, moving back to his desk to slip it into the appropriate file. The performer watched him a moment, a small frown crossing her lips.

“Mr. Drake....I don’t want to pry but, is everything alright?”

“I beg your pardon?” Harold looked up in surprise.

“It’s just...well...you seem a bit down today.” Danni stepped a bit closer to the desk. “I’m a good listener if you need to talk. Sometimes telling things to someone you don’t know very well is easier than with a close friend.”

The billionaire regarded the younger woman. Her face showed concern for him and her tone of voice was warm with compassion. The man who was Harold Drake would be open to sharing his feelings to a sympathetic ear. Based on what he’d found out about Danielle Briggs through his researches, Harold Finch was inclined to attempt it as well, without being too specific of course.

He licked his lips and adjusted his glasses. “I’m not sure where to begin...”

“May I sit down?”

“Please, I’m sorry I should have offered earlier.”

They both took a chair and Danni rested her arms on the corner of Drake’s desk. “What has you feeling sad?”

_I look sad? I was going for pre-occupied...._

“I think....I think I may have offended a friend inadvertently.”

“A good friend?”

Finch shifted in his seat, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. The performer took note of his body language.

“A very good friend, then.” Understanding dawned in her gray eyes and she smiled in empathy. “I’m assuming that your friend also walked away from the conversation and you’ve been unable to contact them?”

The billionaire’s eyes widened behind his spectacles, marveling at his companion’s perceptiveness. _She’s very good at reading people. I shouldn’t be surprised I suppose, she is an actor after all. Without that skill, you’d be in real trouble with your audience._ Still, Finch was impressed.

“Right on both counts. My calls aren’t being returned and I literally don’t know how to get in touch with hi-them at the moment. I confess I’m a bit...concerned.”

_Frantic....terrified really don’t you mean, Finch?_

Danni reached out and covered Harold’s hands with one of her own, squeezing his fingers gently. “I don’t think your friend has left for good, Mr. Drake. I’d say he’s probably off by himself working through things. What really matters is what will you do when he returns?”

Finch felt the warmth of her touch and was surprised to feel comforted. When he looked at her, the performer smiled encouragingly at him.

“I honestly don’t know....” the recluse’s tone was unsure. “He said I didn’t “

“It’s alright, I don’t need to know the details. But ask yourself this question: do you trust your friend?”

_"What do I have to do, Harold?" John leaned down over the recluse, bracing his hands on the arms of Finch's chair. The op's eyes searched his boss' face._

_"Tell me what you need to hear from me to get you to trust me....to realize that we are on the same side. I don't know how else I can show you, so I'm asking what will it take?"_

“Yes, I do.” and even as he said the words, Harold realized at last that they were the truth.

“Has this friend ever abused that trust?”

“No.” Even having Detective Fusco follow him had been due to Reese’s concern for him.

“Then maybe you should tell your friend that you’re sorry and ask him to forgive you.” Danni squeezed his hands again. “I’ve only just met you Mr. Drake but I don’t think you’re the kind of person that deliberately hurts people. I think you’ve got a good heart.”

Finch felt his eyes sting and he blinked rapidly to keep the moisture from them. He looked into the street artist’s face. She smiled back at him. 

“Thank you Ms. Briggs. I appreciate your kindness.”

“Thank you for your trust Mr. Drake. I take confidences very seriously, just so you know.”

Finch/Drake smiled back at her, feeling the tension that had kept his shoulders tight ease a bit. “If I thought otherwise, I’d not have taken you up on your offer.”

The performer stood up. “I’ll let you get back to work, Mr. Drake. I hope your friend contacts you soon.”

“Thank you again, Ms. Briggs. Good day.”

Danni left the office, closing the door behind her. Harold stood looking at it for a moment and then pulled out his phone. There had still been no new number but he called up his car service anyway. It was time he was back at the library....time he prepared to have a long overdue chat with John.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**


	9. Outside Looking In

Title: Working Man  
Chapter IX: Outside, Looking In  
Pairings: Fusco/OFC, Finch/Reese  
Rating: M for sexual themes

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Abandoning the park at first light, the ex-CIA man made his way to the diner for breakfast. His desire for what passed as 'homey' surroundings in his life far outweighed any slight concern that his employer might show up. 

Reese wanted scalding coffee and warm food inside him. Since it was all on Finch's dime anyway, he more than made up for skipping dinner the previous evening. 

"You're so thin I just don't see where you put it all, sweetie...if I knew your secret I'd be getting better tips!" The fifty-something waitress lamented as she cleared away the stack of empty plates.

John smiled at her and sipped the refill she'd brought him, content for the moment to just sit and watch the stream of humanity pass by outside the window. A man and a woman strolled into view, pausing by the side of the building opposite to chat and started laughing. Reese's brows knit together...there was something familiar about the dark-haired.... _Fusco_! 

The op switched sides in his booth so that he was out of direct sunlight and invisible to watchers in the street. _So, Lionel's got a girlfriend, huh?!_ Reese gave the woman with his asset the once over. She must be around five-eight as she was just a hair shorter than the detective. Brown shoulder-length hair; gray eyes and fair skin. She wasn't obese but still a bit heavier than what passed as the current standard of beauty. What caught Reese's attention most was the openness in her face. She was completely absorbed in her partner's conversation. 

Lionel and she stood close together as they laughed and when they started walking again, the woman slipped her arm through Fusco's and kissed him on the cheek. The detective gave her a peck on the forehead and the pair moved on. It was the first time the op had ever seen the detective relaxed...happy...he realized.

John felt his stomach lurch.... _Lionel Fusco, cop on the take...errand boy for HR and for Reese himself, had found someone to care for._ From the closeness they appeared to share, the ex-CIA man speculated they had recently become attached. He wondered if they'd slept together yet, turning back to his coffee with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction. 

_Must be nice....I'll have to keep tabs on them. If this interferes with Lionel's productivity, she'll have to go._ Reese downed the last of his coffee and dropping two twenties on the table, vacated the diner and returned to his hotel. 

He was in desperate need of a catnap and then, recharged and ready, he would go to the library. He'd put off work long enough. Regardless of how unhappy he was with Finch at the present time, the numbers wouldn't stop coming. Maybe helping someone else would make him feel better.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Harold Finch hadn't been this nervous since the day he showed the first computer he'd ever built to his best friend. He'd half-hoped that Reese would be waiting for him when he got back from Brooklyn. The empty reading room mocked him as he changed and fixed himself a cup of tea.

The billionaire waited on pins and needles to see if his partner's phone would come back online, or even more desirable, John Reese would return to work. When two-thirty rolled around with no sign of the op, Finch sighed and sat down at his console to do some server maintenance with the Machine.

"New number Finch?"

Harold started as the tall figure appeared next to him. "Do let me know how you learned to teleport, Mr. Reese. It would be nice to avoid the traffic from time to time."

John didn't reply to the recluse's comment and Finch turned in his chair to look up at the man whom he relied so much on. Reese's eyes were dark, his expression guarded rather than angry. The billionaire winced inside. John had been affected by his refusal to talk to the op and although he had come back, Reese still was wary.

"Will you sit down, Mr. Reese? I'd like to speak with you."

The op folded himself into the chair opposite and watched the recluse in silence. Finch rubbed his hands on his thighs and took a deep breath.

"What you must understand is that I cannot change who I fundamentally am. I will always maintain my privacy, to the fullest extent that I am able. That is just my nature. It is not, however a reflection on my opinion of you personally or as an employee." 

The billionaire cleared his throat and looked directly into the eyes of his partner. He knew that he had to give his op something, as a show of faith. _Part of the truth then, but not all._

"The young man that Mr. Fusco has observed me with is the son of a former business associate. I had many dealings with his father while the boy was growing up and he's become like a nephew to me." Finch shook his head as the op opened his mouth. 

"Before you ask, he knows nothing about our work and since he graduated college four years ago, I've seen little of him. His humanitarian efforts as a doctor involve a significant amount of traveling. Although I get letters now and then, this visit is the first I've had from him in two years. I admit I've been worried about him, with his being half a world away." 

The billionaire paused, observing Reese’s behavior as he absorbed what his partner had told him. Finch relaxed marginally, seeing the ex-CIA man’s posture loosen. When he continued, his voice was full of quiet sincerity. 

"I'm sorry, John. I do trust you...with my life...with the knowledge of my Machine. There is no-one else in this world that I respect more. I..." he looked at his hands, lips twitching as he struggled to hold in the feelings his confession had brought to the surface. 

"Apology accepted." The warmth in Reese's tone bridged the distance between them and Harold looked up to see a small smile play over the op's lips. "Just so you know Harold, I like you too."

He stood up and moved over to take up his customary position at the billionaire's elbow. "So no new number?"

Finch exhaled in relief, feeling the tension melt away; reassured by Reese's solid presence by his side. "Not yet, Mr. Reese...which is very unusual to say the-"

The computer in front of him chirped and a window popped up, scrolling a stream of data before highlighting a nine digit number.

"Speak of the devil..." John muttered.

"Let me research this, it may take awhile." The recluse began typing on auto-pilot. "There's food in the kitchen if you're hungry or take the bed if you need to."

"I'm fine...I ate earlier and speaking indirectly of Fusco, I saw Lionel out and about earlier this morning."

"On his day off? What was our mutual friend up to?" Finch asked, still intent on his monitor.

"Looks like he's found a girlfriend." Reese’s amusement was obvious.

"Oh, really?" The billionaire's tone conveyed distracted interest. _Unusual that she would be on this side of town with Fusco at that time of day, when she lives in Brooklyn. Unless...ah._ Danni must have spent the night at the detective's apartment. _Not that she would have mentioned it to 'Mr. Drake'. She doesn‘t know me that well yet._ Finch smiled to himself.

"What's she like?"

"From her appearance, I'd say Fusco’s sees her as potential relationship material rather than a hot one-night stand."

Harold was glad that he was facing away from the op because he couldn't suppress a frown at Reese's mildly condescending tone. He let the remark pass as he wasn’t supposed to know anything about Danni. “Well, if they do stay together, it might bring some balance to the detective's life.”

“Or it could be too distracting for him to be useful. I’ll have to wait and see before I decide what to do.”

“I’d think having something to focus on besides the ‘rock and a hard place’ situation he’s been put in would be beneficial.”

“Maybe....” Reese shrugged. 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

**_One Week Later_ **

Danni held her professional smile for a full minute after her visitor left. Only when she was certain that the man had gone was the expression replaced with an angry scowl.

“Pompous, self-inflated, arrogant old bastard!” The performer crumpled the business card he’d had the temerity to leave with her and tossed in the trash can beside her. She began to tear down the tent, muttering imprecations under her breath.

_“I’d like to let my students observe a real ‘busker’. You seem to be a bit more organized than a lot of them; certainly you’re better at audience interaction. It's obvious you've had some type of training.” The ‘Acting Teacher’ gave her a condescending smirk._

_“I think it would be a good wake up call for them. Especially if you would relate why you’re performing out here instead of on the legitimate stage.”_

“Legitimate stage my feline, mascot ass! I’ll show you legitimate....one of us has a degree from Julliard and I know it isn’t you, _Mr. ‘God’s Gift to the Dramatic Arts’_.”

Danni stopped and took a couple of breaths, willing herself to calm down. She’d be damned if one twit was going to ruin her afternoon. The performer had enjoyed two very well received shows back to back, if the take in her tip can was any indication, and at the last one the little girl who she’d given a button to, returned with her mom.

Artemis had given Fran the promised hi-five and picked the six-year old to join the group of kids the lion pulled up to perform with him. Danni smiled again, thinking of the big hug Fran had given Artemis, kissing him on the nose. The matching delight on her mother’s face meant more to the street artist than the money that show brought in.

_That’s a big part of why I do this work. I need to make a living but the fact that I get to do so by making people happy is amazing._

Her good humor restored, the woman returned to packing away the canvas tent cover; thoughts drifting back to the day that she’d met Lionel. Danni’s smile grew even wider. Hard to believe that had been nearly three weeks ago. 'Mr. Proscenium' could go take a flying leap off his pedestal. The performer loved her work and was feeling pretty good about her relationship with the detective.

“Hey Gorgeous...what’s got you grinnin’ like a cat in the cream?”

Danni turned to see Detective Fusco approaching, bottle in hand. She met him halfway and wrapped him up in a hug, tilting her head to claim his mouth with her own.

Lionel grunted in amusement but he returned her kiss with enthusiasm. When they pulled back, he laughed as he rubbed his cheek against hers.

“Wow, Ms. Briggs. If that’s the welcome I get bringing you water, what will you do if show up with somethin' stronger?”

“Things that might even get a cop arrested in a public place. And in answer to your first question; thinking about you, Bright Eyes.” 

Lionel hugged her again, feeling ridiculously pleased. 

Releasing his torso, Danni slid her hand down the detective’s arm until she could twine his fingers with hers, leading him over to where she was packing.

“What brings you to my parlor, said the lion to the detective?”

“A request actually.” Lionel replied as he helped the street artist strap the tent case to her cart. “On behalf of young Mr. Michael.” The detective took Danni’s hand in his and kissed her fingers. 

“You are cordially invited to dinner at Chez Fusco this evening. If you’re free of course.” Lionel’s eyes were full of hope.

“Hmmm, is Mickey the only one doing the inviting?” the performer teased. 

Fusco's eyes were warm as he smiled. “Like you even have to ask?”

“I think I’m free, Detective Actually.” Danni kissed his cheek. “I’d love to come over this evening. Casual, formal, what?"

"I'd say business attire but for you that's a lion suit with a tie."

"Wow, the cop's also a comedian...who knew?"

"Ha, ha, ha...Casual and comfortable. Mick's really excited. He had a great time at the ballpark last weekend; can't stop talkin' about it." 

Danni smiled, thinking back on Lionel's suggestion of going to see the Yankees play. Mickey had been a bit shy at first but when the performer introduced herself and asked if he liked hockey, that had opened the floodgates. 

"Six-thirty sound okay with you?"

"Perfect."

Fusco grinned and hugged her. "I got time to get you to your train, if you want some company."

"Well, seeing as it's you..."

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Lionel and Danni stood in Battery Park looking out over the bay towards the Statue of Liberty. She was leaning comfortably against him, her head resting on the detective's shoulder. He'd taken off early as things were slow in the precinct and met the performer halfway between his place and Brooklyn. They'd caught a quick bite and now were just enjoying a quiet early afternoon. Fusco couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so content.

Though they'd only been going out for a few weeks, Lionel's feelings for the performer had deepened quickly. Danni had brought so much happiness into his life in so short a time. Mickey was almost as crazy about her as Lionel himself was. Since she'd come over for dinner, they'd seen each other at least every couple of days. 

Part of him kept waiting for the other shoe to drop...for her to look at him one day and realize that the guy she'd gotten involved with was nothing more than an aging, out of shape, out of prospects cop. 

The detective squeezed the performer's shoulder and settled his cheek on her forehead, dispelling his unpleasant thoughts. _Stop it, Fusco. You're happy....she seems pretty happy, so don't jinx this. Just enjoy it while it lasts._

"Hey Li?"

"Yeah?"

"How're you feelin' Mr. Detective?"

"At the moment? Pretty darn good!"

"So, you and me...we're _okay_ , right?"

_What the?!_ "Of course we are." Fusco turned to look at her, the worried expression on her face taking him by surprise.

"Hey Danni, what gives?” His gut twisted. “Did I do somethin' wrong?"

She touched his arm in reassurance. "No, Lionel...it's just... We've been going out for awhile now and..." The street artist fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. The detective lifted her chin with his fingers until she looked him in the eyes. 

"Hey, you know you can ask me anything...right?" Lionel’s voice was full of encouragement.

“Well, I think you like me but in all this time we haven’t talked about being closer.” The street artist dropped her gaze. 

“I was wondering if it was because you didn’t want to. That since you hadn‘t said anything, it must mean you didn‘t want that with me.”

Lionel’s eyes widened at these words. “Don’t you even think that!!” He swallowed hard and his voice was husky as he continued. “I didn’t want to push you. Didn’t want you to think that’s all I was after.”

This time when the performer met his eyes, she clearly saw the longing in them.

“Danni-girl, I want you so bad...sometimes I think it’s gonna kill me.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “I’ve never met a guy before who felt that way and didn’t try playing grab-ass any chance he got.”

Lionel scowled. “Then all I can say is you’ve met some real creeps.” He cupped her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “I’m no creep, Danni.”

“I know you’re not. I haven’t had to try and break your arm even once.”

Fusco laughed and pulled her in for a long, sweet kiss. When they separated, he took a deep breath, trying to sort through the emotions tangled up inside him.

“Danielle Briggs, I want to be with you. I want to take you home and show you exactly how you make me feel. I wanna make love to you until the sun comes up or my heart gives out tryin’.”

"How come today's the first time I'm hearing this, Li?"

Fusco looked down. "Because, this is the first time I've had the guts to tell you. If you didn‘t feel the same way...well.....”

"Lionel Anthony Fusco, you are such a goob."

"What?"

“If I didn’t like you enough to make love to you, then we wouldn’t still be smooching.” Danni leaned in and gave him a deep kiss, opening her mouth.

Lionel accepted the invitation, sliding his tongue along hers and losing himself in the wonderful sensations that intimate contact brought him. He took his time, exploring Danni’s mouth in what he hoped was a sensual way, rather than a guy trying to stake his claim. The detective desperately wanted to prove that he wasn’t out for a quick way to get in her pants. He wanted to show Danni just how special she was; how much she meant to him.

Fusco slid his hand up the side of her neck, cradling her face as their kiss continued. His other hand slipped around to her back, supporting her as she wrapped her arms around him. Lionel could feel the heat of her body through his thin cotton shirt, the softness of her breasts pressing against him made his heart pound. 

Danni broke the kiss and looked up into his face, seeing the desire in his expression and she smiled. “You want to go back to my place, Li?

“I’ll go anywhere you want to take me, Danni-girl as long as you‘re there too.”

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**


	10. Come On-a My House

Title: Working Man  
Chapter X: Come On-a My House  
Pairings: Fusco/OFC, Finch/Reese  
Rating: M for sexual themes

NOTES: Sorry about the delay folks. Real-life has interfered with my play time in the past week. I'm back and yes, still working on FCIP and To Be Determined as well.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

The subway ride back to Brooklyn was a blur in Lionel's brain. He was conscious of Danni holding his arm as she leaned against him. The detective could feel how relaxed she was now since they'd talked in the park. She really wants this... Part of Fusco's brain was numb, as if it couldn't process that the performer found him desirable.

They walked the half-block to Danni's stoop and the detective took a moment to look around.

"I didn't realize you live across from Prospect."

"It was my grandmother's apartment originally. I like being close to the park and the neighborhood's still sort of quiet."

"You perform here too?"

"For the bigger festivals. Other than that, Central is better for everyday foot-traffic...and tips." She smiled at him. "Wanna go up?"

"Lead the way, D."

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

The two bedroom walk up was on the top floor of the four-storey building. Fusco checked out the apartment as Danni excused herself for a moment. The open door of the spare bedroom showed him a glimpse of a computer and the wheeled case the performer used to transport Artemis' costume and props.

A flatscreen television flanked by two DVD shelves took up part of one side wall of the living room, a well-worn leather couch placed in front of it. The rest of the room was lined with bookshelves.

The detective took in a few of the titles. The performer had everything from texts on medieval and ancient history, wildlife, theatre and film treatises as well as various references on acting and dance. One entire case was devoted just to fiction and Danni's collection included everything from Dickens to Lackey. She even had the complete stories and novels featuring Sherlock Holmes. Although he'd never admit it to his buddies on the force, Fusco loved Conan-Doyle's stories about the detective's adventures.

_Wow, she's even got Deaver here_ , he thought pulling out a copy of 'The Bone Collector' from her paperback section.

"Lincoln Rhyme fan, Li?" the performer asked, coming up behind him and hugging him around the middle.

"You bet Danny-girl...I didn't know you were too."

"What did you think of the movie?"

"I liked it, even with the changes. Denzel Washington did a good job with the character."

"I thought so too. We can watch it sometime if you like."

Fusco put the book back in its place and turned to her. "D...you sure about this? I really want to be with you, but only if you want to."

"Lionel Fusco, if you don't follow me right now then I'll never speak to you again." Her smile took the sting out of her words as Danni pulled him in the direction of the rear of the apartment.

He went willingly...there's nowhere else he'd rather have gone.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

Lionel found himself standing face to face with Danni in the middle of her bedroom. For a long moment all he did was look at her; filling his mind with every detail of her hair, her face, her smile and her eyes. She grinned at him, reaching out to trace his cheek with one finger.

"What are you thinking, Detective Actually?"

"That you're the most beautiful woman in the world and that I must be the luckiest of all guys, 'cause I'm the one here with you." Fusco turned his head and kissed her fingertip.

"Ah, Li..." her eyes filled with tears.

"Danni?", the detective stepped in close and put his arms around her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing...I'm fine...you're... _damn_ , Lionel. Why do have to keep saying just the right thing?"

"What?" Fusco was completely confused now.

The performer wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'll expect you to always say the perfect thing now...and that could get you into trouble if you let me down."

"Danni-girl, I'd rather be damned to hell then let you down if I can help it."

"Then show me, Li..." she whispered in his ear, her breath sending shivers down his spine and straight into his groin.

Lionel slid his hands up under the hem of her shirt, stroking the soft skin of her back. He tried to keep his touch as light as possible; suddenly aware of the rough calluses on his fingers from years of handling firearms. He deliberately by-passed her breasts and pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside on the chair.

His eyes never leaving her face, Fusco pulled Danni in for a deep and thorough kiss, tracing her lips; his tongue teasing hers. He kissed the corner of her mouth, working along her jawline to the sensitive place just behind her ear. She gasped and pressed her hips into his.

The detective skated his hands down her sides, feeling her shiver in anticipation as they moved over the waistband of her jeans. Deftly, he undid the snap and eased open the zipper. Lionel slipped his fingers inside her pants and pushed them down over Danni's hips. They slid down her legs to settle on the floor. He steadied her waist as she stepped out of them.

The performer couldn't stand it anymore. She reached out and swiftly unbuttoned Fusco's shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and digging her fingers into the wonderful thatch of dark brown that coated his chest.

"Lionel...mmmmm."

"Yeah, I am pretty hairy." he sounded apologetic.

Danni stroked his pecs. "I like men...not little boys. Men have _hair_ and yours is perfect, Li." She worked her fingers over his chest until she grazed one of his nipples.

_"Shit!"_ The detective jumped at the sensation. "What did you...ngguuhh."

Danni took complete advantage of the situation and captured both Lionel's nipples in her fingers, rolling and pinching the sensitive buds until they contracted into tight peaks.

Fusco was beyond rational thought. No-one had ever touched him like this before. He'd never even considered it...men didn't... _fuckin' hell!_ He felt his face flush at the needy sounds that slipped past his lips. His penis was hot and painfully tight; straining against the fabric of his pants.

Danni was delighted...she'd only been with one other man who had sensitive nipples and his reaction was nothing compared to Lionel's. She leaned in and took one of them in her mouth, suckling him.

"Holy Jesus...Danni..." Fusco threw his head back, eyes screwed shut as he felt his lower abdomen tighten.

Encouraged by his reaction, Danni swirled her tongue around sensitized knot and bit down.

_"FUCK!"_ Lionel came hard, pushing his hips against hers. The performer reached down and felt the warm wetness spreading across his crotch.

"Li..."

"Hell, Danni...what did you do?" The detective shuddered.

"Made you feel good, I hope."

"If I felt any better I'd be dead." He blinked sweat out of his eyes and looked down at the woman kissing the slight dip between his pecs. "I haven't come that fast since high school...it's gonna be.."

Danni put her fingers on his lips. "Sweetheart, we've got all afternoon and I'm a patient woman. This just means I get to spend more time with you." She smiled up at him, her eyes full of desire.

"Fine by me." He stripped off his pants and shorts; leaving her just long enough to clean himself up in the bathroom. When he returned he found her stretched out on the bed still wearing only bra and panties. Lionel smiled.

"Beautiful..."

"Chunky..." she replied self-consciously.

Lionel sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning down to press his forehead to hers so that she was forced to look into his eyes. "I like women Danni, not six foot-three toothpick supermodels. Women have _curves_ and yours are perfect." He quoted back to her.

"There you go, saying the right thing again..."

"I'm just telling you the truth."

The detective lay down beside her, trailing his fingers over her stomach, hips and down her thighs; feeling her skin shiver at his light touch. Fusco leaned down and pressed his lips to her torso, just beneath her breasts; kissing his way down to her navel and back up to capture her mouth again. He slipped a hand behind Danni's back and with a deft flick, released the catch on her bra.

Danni gasped as she felt the lacy fabric go slack, causing her breasts to slip partially out of the cups. Ever since her first sexual experience, being in this half-covered state was more arousing to her than having her chest fully revealed. The thought of Lionel's hands on her, pulling her bra off to expose her to his eyes was incredibly erotic to her.

Fusco watched her reactions. The same observational skills that made him good at his job were an asset now. Sensing her increased arousal, the detective traced the outline of her nipple through the fabric; feeling it tighten beneath the satin. Danni moaned, arching her back. He took his time, paying attention to both breasts as he stroked her. He rolled the sensitive buds between his fingers; using the friction of the fabric against her skin to his advantage.

_"Lionel..."_ Danni closed her eyes, arching her back to push against the detective's hands, wanting more. His teasing caresses were sending spikes of pleasure ticking down her spine to her thighs.

Fusco leaned down and kissed her eyelids, smiling as he felt her push against his seeking fingers. He slid the straps of her bra down her arms and dropped the garment over the side of the bed. Bending his head, Lionel kissed the valley between her breasts and then took one of Danni's nipples into his mouth; his tongue playing over the tight bud.

The performer moaned as the detective suckled her. She'd never had a partner pay this much attention to her breasts. Danni trailed a hand up his back to tangle in his curls, stroking the back of his head. She felt her hips twitch underneath him, the tingling between her legs growing stronger.

Lionel cupped Danni's backside with his free hand, slipping one finger under the waistband of her panties. He made a quiet sound of pleasure when she lifted her hips from the bed, allowing him to pull the cotton briefs off her.

The street artist felt Lionel's fingers brush the edge of her mound, playing with the silky hair before stroking her outer labia with a featherlight touch. Danni opened herself to him, legs falling back against the mattress as the detective's index finger pressed into her slit, feeling the warm slickness of her desire.

_She's so wet...because of me?_ Lionel looked up at her, his eyes dark with arousal. "D...you sure-" his voice was husky.

"God yes." She brought her other hand up to cup his cheek. "Lionel, you're killing me... _please_!"

The need in her voice spurred him on and the detective's fingers stroked Danni's clitoris. He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cries as he fondled the sensitive knot of flesh. When Lionel felt her raise her hips to him, he removed his hand and pressed his penis against her opening; slipping deep inside her. He groaned as he felt Danni's warm wetness envelop him and he pulled out halfway before easing back in with slow deliberation.

_"Damn it, Lionel..."_

Danni bucked her hips into him, wrapping her legs around his waist for leverage and matched his movements. Fusco broke their kiss to balance himself on knees and elbows as they moved together, picking up the pace. The performer turned her head and bit his forearm; fingers digging into his back.

Lionel felt a pull in his groin and inhaled as he came inside her. He felt Danni's vagina contract around him as she orgasmed a split second later. He continued to pump as she rode out her reaction. Lionel withdrew when he felt the performer's legs relax.

He slipped up the bed to lie next to her, gathering Danni up into his arms and holding her close.

"Geez Louise, D..." The detective kissed her cheek and then her closed eyes; hands stroking her shoulder and back. He felt that if he didn't touch her, she would vanish. That he'd wake up on the couch at his apartment and find it had all been a dream.

Danni wrapped herself around him, draping a leg over his and savoring the solid warmth of him...the smell of his sweat mingled with his cologne was intoxicating to her. She buried her nose in the side of his neck, kissing his ear.

"I love you, Lionel Fusco."

She felt his arms tighten around her and his breath was warm against her face. "I love you too, Danni-girl."

The detective pulled back just enough so that he could look down at her. "I haven't...it's been a long time since anyone's told me that, D. Are you sure?"

"You find any other guys hiding in my bathroom, Li?" She grinned up at him, stretching as she rubbed herself against him. "I'm sure, Detective Actually. I love you."

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

They spent the better part of the afternoon where they were. When at last Lionel had to leave, Danni walked him to the subway. He gave her one last, lingering kiss before he boarded his train. He couldn't help smiling the whole trip home. For the first time, in a very long time, the detective felt whole...


	11. That Thing About Fusco.....

Title: Working Man  
Chapter XI: That Thing About Fusco....  
Rating: M (sexual situations and potential violence in future chapters)  
Pairing: Lionel Fusco/OFC

NOTES: Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this long, drawn out tale! You've waited patiently as I've knocked out seven chapters of 'Natural Inclinations' and now that plot-bunny is giving me a bit of breathing room to continue working on the adventures of Lionel and Danni. This will be a short one with a longer chapter to follow by this weekend. Starting with this chapter and going forward, 'Working Man' departs from the PoI canon in two major ways: Finch's encounter with Root has happened but he was not kidnapped. Also, Grace does not exist/show up in the WM stories.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_one week after the events in Chapter Ten_

Lionel and Danni were relaxing on the couch at the detective’s apartment. The temperatures had cooled down a bit and they were listening to the sound of the evening rain on the street outside the open window. 

Mickey was already asleep, having given both adults a goodnight hug and kiss, and Lionel was about ready to see the artist home for the night. Danni turned off the television and scooted up next to Lionel, snuggling against his side.

Fusco pulled the performer into his lap and held her close, resting his chin on the crown of her head. He sighed, knowing that the time had come for a serious talk with Danni but not relishing the prospect in the slightest.

She picked up on his unease and wriggled around on the couch until she faced him, frowning at the serious look in his eyes.  
.  
"Lionel? What's bothering you?"

"Danni, I've done things in my life I'm not proud of....stuff that made sense to me at the time but that I've regretted ever since." The detective swallowed, looking away from her. 

The performer caught Fusco's chin in her hand, gently pulling his head around until he was forced to meet her eyes. "Li...being a cop isn't easy. You see the worst of people all day, every day. I get that." She gave him a small smile. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Lionel felt a half-hearted grin cross his face as she echoed his words from their fateful visit to Battery Park. _She's hung in with me up to now...I have to tell her the bare bones of what I'm dealing with in the precinct; not everything but she's got the right to know all the facts I can give her._

"D...I'm having to work with some bad people."

"You mean, like undercover?"

"That's as good a way to put it as any. Because of that, you might hear some things about me that bother you....stuff that makes me look dirty too." He cupped her face in his hands, his hazel eyes dark with apprehension.

"No matter what people say to you or how things seem, that isn't who I really am. It's just what I have to do right now." Fusco leaned in and kissed her forehead, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair.

"God D....you mean so much to me. I wanna tell the world how I feel about you. I want everyone to see that we're together. The _last_ thing I want is for you to doubt me."

Danni lifted her face, capturing the detective's mouth with her own; kissing him with a fierce possessiveness. When she pulled back she had to smile at the surprised expression in his eyes.

"Lionel Fusco, you are a damn good cop and a damn fine man. I know it, I _believe_ it and nothing can make me doubt that. I know there's gonna be things about your job that you can't tell me. I thought about that a lot when we first started going out." Danni shrugged. 

"If I felt I couldn't handle that, I'd have broken things off with you in the beginning."

The performer kissed his cheek and then his ear. "I'm not going anywhere Li....I love you."

_"Danni-girl..."_ he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest. 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Reese broke the connection to Fusco's cell, turning to look at his boss. "He for all intents and purposes just told her about HR."

Wisely, Finch refrained from commenting as his op began to pace the reading room.

"What do we know about the woman?"

"I took the liberty of researching her background after you told me about her, Mr. Reese."

John raised an eyebrow in inquiry, prompting Finch to continue.

The billionaire's fingers brought up the performer's information with a few deft taps.

"Mr. Fusco's romantic partner is one Danielle Briggs."

Reese propped his arms on the back of the recluse's chair, leaning down to read over Finch's shoulder. Harold swallowed, very aware of younger man's physical proximity.

The ex-CIA man scanned the records that Finch had found. 

"Thirty-eight years old....acting degree from Julliard? Parents deceased....” John snorted, his voice laced with scorn. "So she's a street performer now, huh?"

Finch turned in his chair to look up at his op. "I thought you of all people would be empathetic for her situation, Mr. Reese." 

"I'm more concerned with my asset being compromised, Harold." He glanced at the screen again. "She's got money. Why is she busking in the park then?"

"It was the settlement from a wrongful death suit brought against the drunk driver who killed her parents. I must confess, I too don't understand why she doesn't utilize the funds." 

Reese stood up and resumed his pacing. "Well, whatever her motivations are Ms. Briggs is interfering with Fusco's usefulness. She's got to be dealt with." 

"Are you going to shoot her and dump her body in Oyster Bay?” The billionaire's tone was dry. “That's a rather extreme reaction to the detective being distracted." 

Reese just gave him a look. "I'm going to have a word with Lionel tomorrow and if he's smart he'll see reason and break things off."

The op pulled his coat from the brass tree by the door, shrugging into it and turning the collar up against the rain he was about to step into. 

"If not....well then...I'll have to persuade Ms. Briggs directly." Reese stepped out into the hallway. "See you in the morning, Harold." 

Finch waited a few moments to make sure John was gone before leaning back into his chair and sighing. He hadn't wanted to monitor Fusco's private conversations but Reese had insisted. Contrary to his partner's feelings, the recluse thought that the detective's relationship with Danni had been very beneficial for the man so far. Lionel’s confidence and sense of self-worth had increased exponentially. The performer had been a steadying influence on him. That Danni was happy with the relationship, the recluse knew from the source. She had finally told Harold Drake about Fusco.

_She'd had no choice really when the bouquet of roses showed up at my office._

Finch smiled, remembering the look on Danni's face when he'd set the beautiful arrangement of pink and ivory blossoms on the piano in her studio. The performer had read the card and then confessed everything to her new friend. Harold 'Drake' had been quick to express his happiness for her and in all honesty, the matchmaker in him had enjoyed the ensuing gossip session they'd had about the detective. 

_I had no idea Mr. Fusco had such good taste in flowers._

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_the next night_

Danni and Lionel were perched on the edge of the Bethesda Fountain, enjoying the pocket of quiet that developed by the arcade when dusk settled over the park. Fusco had come to think of the place where he’d met the performer as sacred ground and offered a prayer of thanks to the angel of water whenever they were here. Their conversation had turned to Lionel’s son by the time they sat down.

“Mickey’s gotten really attached to you, you know.”

“Feeling’s mutual, I assure you Li. Your son is an amazing kid. You’ve done a great job of raising him.”

“I could have killed the squirt though when he said you should spend the night while we were having dinner this week.” The detective laughed in remembered surprise.

 

_“Charlie Lopez says his dad’s girlfriend stays over all the time.” Mickey announced as he dug into his helping of spaghetti. “Charlie says she’s not very nice to him either.” The boy gulped down a forkful of noodles and sauce; spearing a meatball and devouring that too._

_“I don’t think that’s too nice of Charlie’s dad then.” Danni had replied, tapping a breadstick on her plate._

_“Me neither.” Mickey took a swig of milk out of his glass, wiping his mouth on his napkin. “You could have a sleepover with dad though, Danni.” He grinned at her. “I wouldn‘t mind.”_

_“Michael James Fusco!” His father’s tone was sharp. He looked over at the performer, his eyes apologetic as Danni turned beet red._

_Mickey hung his head. “But Dad, I like it when Danni comes over, don’t you?”_

_“Yeah but...”_

_“And you like coming to see Dad, don’t you Danni?”_

_“Of course I do but...”_

_“Then you should have a sleepover on Friday. We could go to the park together after breakfast, or the zoo maybe.”_

_“Mick...” Fusco’s voice softened, trying to get his son to see reason. “Just where is Danni going to sleep, the couch?”_

_“Duh, Dad....in your room, of course.” Mickey rolled his eyes at the two adults._

_“WHAT?”_

_“Everyone knows grownups that like each other sleep in the same room.”_

_Lionel looked at Danni, who was holding her hand over her mouth to keep in silent giggles. Here eyes danced with mirth and she shook her head helplessly. The detective turned back to his son who’s attention was focused on his dinner again._

_“You’d be okay with that Mick?”_

_“I think it would be cool.”_

 

“Well, he’s got the same smooth moves his dad does....he’s just a bit more, um, direct in his opinions.”

Lionel laughed and hugged her close. “He’s also got great taste in women. You want to get something to eat?”

They started to walk back towards the arcade when a shadow detached itself from the bushes.

“Hello Lionel, going somewhere?”

“Geez, really? You gotta do this now?”

Reese stepped up to Fusco’s other side and peered down at him. “Lionel, you work at my convenience...not the other way around.”

“Hey Legs...” Danni stepped between Lionel and the op, forcing the taller man to take a step back towards the fountain. “Who the hell do you think _you_ are?!”

John favored her with a smirk and his signature half-lidded glance that tended to catch women off guard. “Just a bit of business between the detective and myself.”

“You got a beef with Lionel then you deal with me too.” Danni was patently unimpressed with Reese’s charm. 

“Hey Danni,” Fusco touched her shoulder. “It’s okay, I’ll just-”

“No it isn’t, Lionel.” The performer turned to him, her face full of righteous anger. “This guy is treating you like crap and you’re letting him do it.”

Danni looked back at Reese, giving him the once over from top to bottom. “If this is _business_ then you need to show a little more respect, Legs. I don’t know who you are but you’re sure not a cop.” Her voice grew hard. “If it’s personal, then you need to just walk away as we happen to be busy.”

“You let your _girlfriend_ fight all your battles for you, Lionel?” The op’s voice was tinged with amusement.

“What’s the matter Stork? Can’t handle a girl?” Danni swallowed a grin as she heard the detective choking back laughter at the taller man’s expense.

Reese glared first at the performer then his asset. “We need to talk Lionel...alone... _now_.”

Fusco shook his head, Danni’s defense of him bolstering the detective’s confidence. “No. As you can see, I’m in the company of a lady and, as she’s already told you, we have plans. You can call me later.” 

He offered his elbow to the performer. Before she could take it, the ex-CIA man grabbed Lionel’s other arm. 

“I don’t think so detective.” John started pulling the cop back past the fountain. 

“Let him go!” Danni kicked out; catching Reese’s shin and he yelped in surprise, releasing Fusco to deal with his attacker. 

The op was hampered by the fact that he didn’t want to hurt the woman. All his CIA and combat training was designed to inflict the maximum damage to an opponent with a minimum amount of effort. Fighting his instincts to ’down and disable’ was throwing Reese’s timing off and he found it frustrating to say the least. 

_“What the hell?”_ Lionel had just grabbed his arm.

“Leave her out of this, Sunshine.”

Reese seized the detective by the collar, trying to get him to let go when Danni connected with his kneecap this time. He stumbled backwards, overcompensating to keep his balance, and fell in the fountain’s pool.

Lionel and Danni jumped out of the splash zone and started laughing. Reese tried getting up and slipped, landing on his backside in the water again.

“So long Wonderboy.” Fusco grinned at him before turning to walk away, an arm draped over the performer’s shoulders. 

_“Asshole!”_ Danni muttered, snugging her own arm around Lionel’s waist.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

“Mr. Reese? Is that you? I lost contact with you about-”

The recluse broke off mid-sentence as a sopping wet and very angry John Reese squished into the reading room. Finch regarded his op for a long moment, taking in the slick of algae in John’s hair and the water-logged phone in his hands.

“I take it your talk with the detective didn’t go as planned....”

John just glared at him, blinking water out of his eyes.

“You’re welcome to use the shower. I suggest adding a bit of disinfectant to the shampoo however. Public fountains can be havens for bacteria.”


	12. We Three

Title: Working Man  
Chapter XII: We Three  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Lionel Fusco/OFC

NOTES: I know that this fic has been heavy on the plot and scant on the sexy scenes. Thank you to everyone for being patient while I've thrown a bunch of story stuff on you. We now return to our regularly scheduled dose of 'Fusco-Fun'....and angsty Reese.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

John Reese was pissed. For almost two weeks after his 'baptism' at Lionel's hands, the op had been meticulously tailing the detective and his paramour between numbers; trying to find a situation where he could confront him again.

Fusco was taking no chances, however it seemed. He was well aware that John might be watching (as evidenced by the furtive glances Lionel shot over his back when he was out in public). The detective made sure that he and Danni were never isolated from the rest of the foot-traffic when they walked in the city. Once Lionel was home, he stayed there. Determined as Reese was to put pressure on the cop; he wouldn't break into Fusco's apartment with the man's son there too.

One thing the op had noticed was that Danni Briggs was spending Friday nights at the detective's place. For some reason that irked Reese even more. The first time it had happened, he'd opened the link between Fusco's cell and his; only to be treated to an audio track of the couple's post-coital activities. John had felt his face flush as he listened to Fusco's whispered endearments to his partner....and was downright envious when Danni replied in kind. The ex-agent broke the connection and left his observation post to walk back to his loft. 

He liked the apartment Finch had gifted him with very much. At first, he thought the wide bank of windows would make him feel paranoid but the light they let into the open living space had a calming effect on him. When he returned home after his aborted stakeout however, he felt restless and out of sorts. The roomy apartment now seemed vast and empty...magnifying the discontent that eavesdropping on the lovers had roused in him. 

Without turning on the lights, John tossed his coat and suit jacket on the sofa; kicking off his shoes and moved over to stare down into the moonlit park. The concrete of the benches and game tables glowed with a silvery incandescence. It was beautiful, the op thought....but empty, just like his home. He’d been alone for most of his life, both before and after Jessica...but it wasn’t until the op had been pulled out of his emotional apathy to work with Harold that Reese began to feel the prick of loneliness once again invade his solitude. 

John closed his eyes and thought about what it would be like to share his home with someone. To hear a quiet voice...the soft _’chink’_ of a spoon against a china teacup...the un-even tread of footsteps on his hardwood floor. _To feel the wiry strength of Finch’s arms embracing him from behind....of Harold’s heartbeat beneath his hand, the recluse’s bare skin shivering as John’s fingers brushed over his chest..._

Reese shook his head, dispelling the idle dreams that he had no hope would ever become reality. Hardening his heart, the op renewed his resolve to get his asset back on track. He would leave the pair alone; let Lionel relax enough to make him careless and then John would take care of the situation once and for all.

With this course of action determined, Reese stripped down to his boxer-briefs and slid beneath the covers of the massive oak bed Finch had provided for him. Sleep however eluded him until the early hours of the morning.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

Mickey popped out of the bathroom and moved over to stand by the couch.

“Teeth brushed?”

“Yeah Dad and face washed too.” Fusco laughed at the long-suffering note in his son’s voice. 

“Alright, bedtime then and lights out in ten minutes.”

“Or what, you’re gonna arrest me?”

“Keep it up smart guy and it’s lights out in five.”

Mickey grinned at the ritual threat. He hugged his father, kissing him on the cheek. “ ‘Night Dad. I love you.”

“Love you too, son.” Lionel hugged the boy tight. 

Mickey turned and gave Danni a kiss too. “ ‘Night Danni. I love you.” He hugged her tight before pulling back to shoot her an anxious look.

Danni smiled and kissed his forehead. “I love you too, Mickey. Sleep tight.”

The boy grinned and hugged her again, then headed off into his room, shutting the door behind him. The street artist stared after him, her eyes overflowing. This was the first time Mickey had added those words to his nighttime routine with her. Even as it warmed her heart, she felt sobered by the knowledge that Lionel’s son had accepted her into his life....more than that, he _wanted_ her there.

She and Lionel had been so careful about their behavior around the boy, in spite of his insistence about her ‘sleeping over’; keeping intimate displays of affection in check until after they’d retired to Lionel’s bedroom for the night. Danni hadn’t wanted to make Mickey uncomfortable or feel that she was trying to usurp the boy’s place with his father. For him to tell the performer 'I love you' after only three weeks of their new arrangement shook Danni to her core.

She turned to look at Fusco, suddenly worried at how he would take this new development. She didn’t want Lionel to feel that she was coming between him and Mickey either. The expression on the detective’s face dispelled all her fears. His own eyes were moist and he pulled her into an embrace; his mouth covering hers possessively.

Danni found it hard to keep quiet as Lionel’s kiss grew more insistent, his tongue tracing her lower lip before trapping it between his teeth. She held him closer, feeling a warmth slip down her spine to pool between her legs. When the detective released her mouth, Danni fought to catch her breath.

“ _Wow_....Lionel?”

Fusco pressed kisses along her jawline to her neck, breathing lightly in her ear and nipping the sensitive skin just behind her lobe. Danni gasped again, pushing into the detective’s chest.

“He’s never said that to anyone else, Danni...Do you have any idea how much that means to me? How much you mean to him?” Lionel whispered to her, his hands kneading her shoulders.

“It means the world to me too, Li.” 

Fusco held her close again for a moment and then let her go. “I’m gonna make sure he’s settled for the night.” His hazel eyes were darkened by the emotions that pulsed through him. 

“I’ll be back at our room in just a minute.” He kissed the tip of her nose and stepped inside Mickey’s door.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

Danni stood up and made her way into the master bedroom. She hugged herself... _he said ‘our room’....not his room but ‘ours’._ She was elated and nervous at the same time. _What does this mean? What did he mean? There’s a lot to consider about-_ The performer shook her head. _Slow down, girl! Don’t project...Lionel’s feelings are up in the air right now and the last thing you need is to jump to conclusions about stuff that hasn't even been brought up._

She took a deep, settling breath and moved to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she returned to the bedroom, Lionel was waiting for her; his shirt unbuttoned and his shoes off. He shut the door behind her, locking it as had become their habit when she stayed the night.

“Will you take your clothes off for me? I want to look at you while you do.”

Feeling more than a bit self-conscious, Danni sat down on the edge of the bed and unlaced her sneakers; pushing them underneath the frame and out of the way. She stood up and turned to face Lionel, reaching up to undo the buttons of her shirt.

“Wait....” 

Danni stopped while the detective turned off the overhead light and switched on the air-conditioning unit. She sighed in relief as the cool air washed over her. Lionel snapped on the bedside lamp behind him and sat down on the bed to watch.

“Take off your pants first...”

The need in her lover’s voice went straight to her core and the performer unsnapped her jeans, sliding the zipper open and slowly pushing them over her hips. Danni watched Lionel’s eyes track the heavy denim as it slipped down her legs and she stepped out of them. 

“Now your bra...leave your shirt buttoned.” 

Lionel’s tone grew insistent and she watched him take off his own shirt and undershirt, dropping them to the floor. Danni slid her arms out of her shirtsleeves and unfastened her bra, removing it and letting it fall next to her. She put her arms back through her sleeves and gasped as the silky rayon of her top clung to her now bare breasts. She shivered as the combination of the fabric rubbing against her nipples and the cold air of the room made the sensitive buds contract.

Lionel gave a quiet moan of pleasure as he observed her reactions to his requests. 

“How does that feel, Danni-girl?” His voice was rough. 

The performer could feel his eyes tracking over her, an almost palpable sensation against her skin and knowing that Lionel wanted her made the throbbing between her legs grow stronger. 

“It feels...so good..I feel....”

“Tell me Danni. Tell me what you want....” Lionel stood up and closed the distance between them...stopping just short of touching her. The performer reached out but Fusco took a step back, shaking his head. 

“ _Tell me..._ ” he urged her again.

Danni growled in frustration but seeing how adamant Lionel was, had no choice but to try and articulate her feelings.

“Damn it, Li....I want you to-” she stopped, biting her lip as she felt her cheeks flush.

“Say it Danni....I want to hear how you want me to touch you.... _please_!”

“I want to feel your hands on my breasts....I want you to tease me through my shirt.. _ah..._ ” 

She broke off as Lionel reached out to cup her through the thin rayon, his fingers caressing her, thumbs stroking over her already sensitive nipples. Danni pushed against his hands, shivering as he pinched the tight knots with his fingers. 

“What else Danni? Tell me....”

“Mmm....” the performer swallowed hard. “Unbutton my shirt. Use your tongue and your teeth.... _Please Lionel_!” 

Even as she realized what she’d said, Danni felt the detective’s fingers opening her blouse. He stopped halfway and reaching inside lifted a breast out, causing the shirt to slip off her left shoulder. Bending his head, Lionel licked her; the warm wetness of his tongue only adding to the desire building within her. He captured her nipple in his teeth and suckled in earnest. 

Danni could feel his erection straining against his pants, pressing into her hips and she writhed against him. Removing her left arm from her blouse, she cupped the back of his head, working her fingers into Lionel’s curly hair as he continued to suck and nip at her flesh. His other hand made short work of the shirt's remaining buttons and he pulled the garment off of her. His fingers mirrored the actions of his mouth on her other breast and Danni was very conscious of having only a thin barrier of cotton between her body and his. 

Lionel maneuvered her over towards the bed, applying just enough leverage so that she had to bend her knees and Danni found herself sprawling back on the sheets. Removing his remaining clothing, Lionel lay down over her; head even with her breasts as he continued his caresses. Danni felt her knees draw up, cradling the detective’s body between her thighs. She squirmed underneath him, gasping again as she felt the heat rising inside her.

Lionel lifted his head, hands taking the place of his lips on her nipples. 

“What else, Danni?”

“You _know_ Lionel...”

“Say it, Danni-girl.”

She looked him straight in the eyes, her pupils wide with arousal. “I want you to touch me, Lionel....work me with your fingers until I come.”

He laughed and kissed her breasts one last time before sliding further down her stomach. “Your wish is my command.”

Danni felt his fists bunch up the cotton of her briefs and she raised her hips just enough for Lionel to pull them off of her. He spread her thighs and stroked a finger along the opening of her labia, barely touching her flesh. He laughed again as she bucked up against his hand, demanding more. With infinite care, he worked his finger inside her slit; finding her clitoris and pressing it against her pubic bone. 

Danni yelped and arched her back, feeling the detective’s thumb slip between her folds to worry and tease the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core. 

_“Lionel...God....please!”_ She begged as he stroked her faster then deliberately slowed down again. Her eyes flew open when she felt his hand withdraw. “What?”

Lionel splayed his hand over her belly. “Danni....I want to do something for you but I don’t know how you feel about it.”

“What Lionel?”

“May I taste you?” 

Danni looked at him in puzzlement then realized what he was talking about. She felt her face flood with heat again. “Um...I’ve never had anyone do that before Li....”

Lionel slid back up her body to capture her lips. “Do you trust me, D?” He murmured against her mouth.

“Of course.”

“Then let me try it....I want you to feel good.”

He backed up and looked at her hopefully.

“Alright...but I just...”

The detective lowered himself back between her thighs, lifting her legs to rest over his shoulders. Danni’s face flushed as she felt her pelvis angled upward and realized Lionel’s nose was rubbing against her slit. She was about to stop him when his fingers parted her folds and the wet warmth of his tongue traced her opening.

_Oh....oh...wow!_

Danni had always enjoyed Lionel’s finger play (the detective had a very delicate touch) but the tease of his tongue tip on the most sensitive areas of her body was electrifying. Lionel’s lips brushed over her inner labia as his mouth moved upward to engulf her clitoris. A shudder passed through her as his tongue circled the tight organ and when the detective began to suckle it, Danni bit her lip to keep from crying out. 

Fusco felt his partner writhe underneath him and slid his hands up Danni’s waist to stroke her nipples again. She gasped in rhythm with his mouth’s movements and he released one of her breasts to slip an index finger inside her. 

_“Lionel...damn it....”_ Danni’s voice was rough with the effort of not disturbing Mickey. 

Lionel curled his finger forward and massaged her vaginal wall opposite where he was working her with his mouth. He lapped upwards with his tongue in sure, bold strokes. Danni rocked her hips with each one, her breath coming faster.

_“LI!”_

 

Fusco felt a warmth flood over his hand and let his tongue take the place of his finger inside Danni, tasting the salty musk of her fluids. His groin was aching and he stood up just long enough to strip out of his pants and briefs before kneeling between her splayed thighs again.

Danni was still coming down from her orgasm when she felt Lionel lift her hips. His penis slipped inside her easily, thanks to his earlier ministrations and she twitched as his shaft rubbed against her sensitized flesh. She opened her mouth to speak, only to have him lean forward and take it in his own; his tongue working against hers.

Danni tasted herself on him and reached out, pulling herself upright to straddle Lionel’s hips; burying him deeper inside her. Each stroke pressed her clitoris against his crotch, the wiry hair at his base stimulating her again. The detective swallowed her cries and with a final thrust, Danni felt his release. Lionel’s quiet gasp pushed her into her second orgasm and she bit his shoulder; her walls tightening around his shaft.

They balanced there for a long moment until Lionel’s knees began to tremble and he eased her back against the mattress. 

Danni lay there panting, her eyes closed as she felt the after tics along her spine. When she looked up, she saw Lionel braced on his hands and knees above her. His own eyes were screwed shut and he was breathing hard.

“D....I swear, you’re gonna give me a heart-attack one of these days...” He opened his eyes and grinned down at her. 

“But no-one on earth is going to die happier!” He collapsed next to her and gathered her up against his chest. Danni laughed in response. 

“Well, at least you’ll go out with a _big bang_.” She grinned, feeling his amused grunt under her cheek. 

He rolled over to look at her. “Did....did you like it?”

Danni pulled him in for a deep kiss. “Lionel, I never thought it would feel that good. You are incredible.”

Fusco blushed. “I wanted to make you feel happy D.”

“And you did...” she snickered “I‘ll never think of the phrase ‘silver tongued devil‘ the same way again.”

They both started laughing...hushing each other to keep from getting too loud.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

The detective got them cleaned up and slipped under the covers to spoon against Danni’s back. He turned off the bedside lamp and sighed into her hair as he closed his eyes. The performer found his arm and snugged it around her waist; lacing her fingers through his and relaxing back against him.

Lionel listened to Danni’s breathing even out as sleep overcame her. He sighed in contentment. Mickey was safe and sound in the next room over and Danni was with him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep to the comforting thoughts of his family.


	13. Approaching Fronts

Title: Working Man  
Chapter XIII: Approaching Fronts  
Rating: NC-17 (sexual situations both heterosexual and homosexual)  
Pairing: Fusco/OFC; Finch/Reese

NOTES: from here forward 'Working Man' may/will contain slash elements in addition to the main storyline between Lionel and Danni. You have been warned, lol. This one is short but there will be a longer chapter posted very soon.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_To say Harold Finch was frustrated was an understatement. His op had stomped into the library in a foul mood that morning...indeed brooding discontent had been the ex-agent’s ‘status quo’ for the past week. At the moment, Reese was staring out of a window in stony silence. Frankly, the billionaire was getting tired of it._

 _He stood up from his computer station and taking a deep breath, marshaled his thoughts into a counter-argument that he hoped John Reese might actually listen to._

"What I know is that the detective has been more stable and focused since his association with Ms. Briggs began. He was a loose cannon when you first 'recruited' him. He isn't anymore." 

Finch glared at Reese‘s back, willing the other man to drop his grudge and see reason.

_I don't understand why he's so opposed to her_ , Harold thought...then stopped himself. That wasn’t completely true. Part of it the recluse knew, stemmed from Reese's confrontation with Lionel and Danni in the park. Harold could tell that coming off second-best in that encounter, in addition to his initial insistence that Lionel was distracted by the relationship, still rankled his partner. But these didn't account for his level of anger towards the performer. It was almost vendetta-like.

Reese turned from the window, a puzzled expression on his face as he regarded his employer. 

"Why are _you_ so concerned about Fusco now, Finch? You've always considered him to be unwanted baggage."

The billionaire felt his face grow warm as Reese's eyes bored into his.

"I-I'm not, I just…"

"Yes you are." the op closed the distance between them. "You want the two of them together and I want to know why."

“Tell me Finch...why are you so invested-” Reese broke off mid-sentence and pinned the older man with a speculative look.

“It’s not Fusco....it’s _her_.” John treated the pronoun as if it were an expletive.

“What?!” Finch’s startled query sounded guilty to the op’s ears.

“You’re not concerned about Fusco at all...it’s his girlfriend that you’re...but you don’t...” he broke off again, his eyes narrowing.

Finch refused to meet his gaze. 

“You son-of-a-bitch.” Although Reese’s comment was quiet, his voice was taut with anger. 

“You’ve talked to her...you know her.” He backed Finch up against the card catalog.

“When?”

“Mr. Reese, I must insist....”

“When Harold? _Tell me!_ ” John leaned in until his face was a mere inch from his employer’s. 

Finch finally looked up at him, the billionaire’s pale gaze steady as he stared back at the ex-agent.

“Right after I spoke with the detective about following me. I listened in on their initial conversation in the park and did a background check on her.”

“And you first _spoke_ to her?”

“I bought the studio she rehearses in that same afternoon. Later that week, I posed as a member of the theatrical profession so that I could interact with her on common ground.”

Reese’s blue eyes grew cold as he stared at the man he thought he was beginning to get to know better....the man he’d come to think of as his friend and indeed had wanted share more with.

“All this time....and you never said a word. You told me you‘d never lie to me, Finch.”

Harold took an unsteady step towards his op. 

“Yes Mr. Reese, that's true and I didn‘t. You never asked before today. Now that you have, I‘m telling you.....and from what I’ve learned in my conversations with her, Danielle Briggs is a very hard-working, intelligent person. Without a doubt she is-”

Swearing, John turned away; heading out of the reading room to the stairs. 

“She’s gotten to you too....well this is going to end right now. I can't work while your and Fusco’s heads are _both_ so far up your own asses.”

As Reese stormed out of the library, Finch made his unsteady way to his computer and opened the link to the op's earbud. The recluse also dialed Fusco's cell in an attempt to warn him of the approaching storm.

While Finch knew that John wouldn't resort to physical violence with the couple; whatever the op intended wouldn't be good. The detective needed to get Danni and himself out of sight.


	14. Breaking Storm

Title: Working Man  
Chapter XIV: Breaking Storm  
Rating: NC-17 (ahh...you guys know)  
Pairing: Fusco/OFC; Finch/Reese

NOTES: Issues?.... _oiy vey_!! Are there issues! Also, just a reminder: in the ‘Working Man’ universe there is no Grace and Harold’s encounter with Root did not result in his being kidnapped.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Lionel met Danni by Bethesda fountain for a late lunch. He’d suggested a makeshift meal at the same hotdog cart the detective frequented the day he'd met the performer; relating the story of how he came to be in Central Park at the time. The fact that it was exactly six months since then made it all the more enjoyable.

"Li, you are a true romantic at heart…you know that?"

"Well, wine and roses it's not…."

"But _special_ it is." Danni bumped his shoulder with hers and grinned. "I remember I wanted to deck you at first."

Fusco laughed. "I thought you were going to. I'm glad things worked out the way they did." His voice was rough with the emotions he was attempting to express. "Life has brought me two truly good things. One is Mickey...the other is you D.”

The detective wrapped his arms around her. "I love you so much Danni-girl."

"I love you too Bright Eyes." The performer’s reply was quiet but heartfelt. “I can’t remember when I’ve been so happy Lionel.”

John clenched his teeth, watching from the arcade as the couple kissed. _This is what I mean. He’s too wrapped up in this woman to work._ “Enough is enough.”

_“Mr. Reese? I beg of you...don't do this.”_ The recluse’s voice held a tinge of desperation. 

“If I need a conscience Finch, I‘ll go find Jiminy Cricket.” 

Harold made no reply and the op fell back on his ability to move undercover to approach the detective and his paramour.

They had just broken their kiss and were standing up when Reese spoke.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

John smirked as the man and woman started in surprise. Fusco scowled up at him.

"Oh come on! What are you, stalking me or something?"

_"You again?"_ Danni glared at the interloper. "You want to go another round, Legs?"

"Let's go D." Lionel started to lead her away when Reese blocked their path.

"I don't think so, Detective. We need to have a little conversation...right now."

"Look Wonderboy," Fusco instinctively placed himself between Reese and Danni. "I don't know what you got going on but right now I'm not a part of it. Now back off."

John just stared at the couple, his smirk widening. "You're so quick to protect her Lionel. Is it because of the money?"

The detective turned to the op, eyes wide at the suddenness of his remark; missing Danni's startled gasp.

"What are you talkin' about, Sunshine?"

_“Please Mr. Reese.”_ John ignored the plea in his ear.

"Lionel, you do know she‘s worth over two million , right?" Reese's tone was amused. "Ms. Briggs here can afford all the security she wants. Certainly better than yourself."

Fusco's face drained of color in shock. The detective struggled to pull himself together in the wake of Reese's revelation; turning confused eyes on Danni. The performer's face was as pale as his own.

“Is that true? You’re rich?” his tone was emotionless.

“Lionel...” Danni reached a hand out to him, her heart breaking when the detective backed away.

_"Answer me...."_

"I do have some money yes....but Lionel-"

Fusco laughed, the sound hollow and empty. “So you and me...what was that? You slummin‘ with the low-class cop just for the novelty? Because you felt sorry for me, maybe?” He cut her off; turning away and pulling in on himself in defeat. 

“I-I gotta go. My boy will be getting back from his friend‘s house and I have to work tomorrow.”

Although the performer couldn‘t see the detective‘s face, his voice cracked and she knew that he was hurting.

“Lionel, don’t leave.... _please!_ ” Danni strode over to him. 

Fusco stopped, fists clenched at his sides but didn’t turn around. 

“I feel like a fool. You must think I’m the biggest idiot in the world. I mean...here I thought you were maybe a little worse off than me." His voice was full of self-loathing.

"I was _worried_ about you making ends meet; that must have handed you a pretty good laugh.”

Danni stepped in front of him but Lionel refused to look at her. She held her hands out, desperate to explain.

"Li, I wasn’t trying to-.”

_“Don’t call me that!”_ He snarled, meeting her gaze at last; eyes full of hot accusation.

The detective’s voice was harsh, his anger at the knowledge Danni had kept from him boiling over. 

“Don’t you dare....after all I told you about Mick’s mom....after he...we..." Lionel broke off, the anger in his face morphing into confused hurt.

"How could you do this to him Danni? To _us_?”

“Please, Lionel. Let me explain everything, let’s just talk ab-”

_“No!”_

The street artist winced at the pain in his voice.

“No...”, Lionel repeated. “I don’t want your explanations, or your reasons. Just leave me and Mickey alone.” He stalked off without looking back, hands thrust deep in his pockets.

_"Lionel....."_

The ex-CIA man turned to look at the performer, shocked at the loss in the woman’s voice. 

She turned on him, tears of fury streaming from her eyes.

“You _bastard_!” Danni hit Reese in the chest with both fists, causing the op to stagger backwards. “Why would you do that? _Why?!_ ”

John was nonplussed. He knew Fusco would be devastated but so apparently was she. Danni wasn’t playing the detective it seemed. 

“Wait...calm down.” He caught her wrists as she came at him again. She struggled for a moment before wrenching herself free.

“Go to hell you son of a bitch! If I find out you’ve come near Lionel ever again, so help me I’ll make you regret it.” Danni spat at him and hurried back the way she'd come.

“Well that was unexpected.” John muttered, just loud enough for his partner to hear.

The silence in his earpiece caught the op’s attention at once. 

“Finch? Finch, are you there?” 

He heard the faint _click_ of his communication line going dead. Reese was an island of stillness as the park’s foot-traffic swirled around him. For the first time since he’d begun working for the recluse, the ex-CIA man felt completely alone.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

It was two days before Finch deigned to return to the library. The recluse knew full well that Reese had been there looking for him; having viewed the reading room surveillance footage of the past forty-eight hours. 

Harold lay in wait; concealing himself in the stacks opposite his computer desk. Sure enough, the op slipped silently into the room to stand next to the empty chair. Finch was surprised to see the younger man reach down to touch his fingers to its armrest. John's mouth was tight but from where he was standing the billionaire couldn't tell if the expression was from anger or regret. He took a deep breath and emerged from his hiding place.

Reese turned at the sound of his employer's off-rhythm steps behind him.

"Finch." The low voice held a slight note of relief.

The recluse regarded John for a long moment and then stepped around him, muttering a quiet "excuse me" as he made his way to the desk. The op shadowed him, moving to stand at the older man's left side.

Finch could feel Reese's gaze on him but made no further acknowledgement of the man's presence; his fingers navigating the keyboard in front of him with an ease born from years of manipulating them.

John tolerated this state for a full two minutes before breaking into the staccato beat of clacks. "What's wrong Finch?"

The billionaire ignored the question, continuing his maintenance tasks with single-minded purpose.

"Finch...." the tone carried a hint of impatience.

"We do not have a number, Mr. Reese and I must complete these routine functions. There's no need for you to remain here."

"Where have you been the last two days? Don't say here, because you and I both know that isn't true."

"I wasn't aware I had a _curfew_ , Mr. Reese nor that you were the guardian I was supposed to report to." Finch's tone was icy.

The op was startled into silence at the uncharacteristic harshness of his partner's reply. At last his growing anger at being 'punished' asserted itself. "So you just took a holiday? A long weekend, is that it?"

The billionaire ignored his employee's sarcastic attempt at humor, his posture taut with disapproval.

"I always expected that you would need to employ violent methods in the course of our work, Mr. Reese; both physical and psychological. I understood that when I offered you the job and although I myself am not comfortable utilizing those methods, I don’t judge you for acting in accordance with your training." 

“Harold-”

"What is wrong, Mr. Reese is you have with deliberate, selfish malice hurt two people undeserving of such treatment. Two people whose only crime in your eyes was to find happiness with each other."

Reese felt his own anger kick into high gear. He began pacing back and forth in front of Finch's desk. The billionaire was struck anew by the ex-agent's resemblance to a big cat. _If he had a tail it would be lashing in frustration now_ , he thought.

“We’ve been over this a dozen times, Harold. My asset was-”

“Your _asset_ has found sources of intimate companionship in the past, Mr. Reese and you never considered him compromised at those times.”

“That's different-”

“Because they were _casual_ encounters? With prostitutes?” Finch prodded. “Why does the fact that Lionel Fusco is in a stable, positive relationship threaten you?”

“It doesn’t!” Reese snapped, glaring at the older man. “Why did you keep spending time with Danielle Briggs? Even after you decided she wasn't a threat to Fusco?" 

“Are you and _Danni_ friends now, Finch? Or should I say _Drake_?” His voice was full of accusation. "You enjoying talking theatre and dance with another _artiste_ , Harold?"

Rather than validate Reese’s assumption, Finch pulled his dignity together; deciding to press home his point. "Are you saying Mr. Fusco doesn't deserve to be happy?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Reese shot back. 

The op looked away, but not before the recluse saw the sadness in his face. All at once Harold _understood_. 

_That’s what this whole thing has been about. He’s....well, not jealous perhaps but something like certainly._ All of the recluse’s ill-will melted away as he looked at his partner’s back with new awareness. _We’re both so alone...we have to be. He sees me with a new ‘friend’ and it only drives home that he doesn’t himself. Now I’m the blind one._ Harold wanted nothing more than to reach out to the younger man, touch him. _If only I could tell you..._

"John…" Finch's voice was quiet. 

"I know our own lives preclude being close to someone else. I'm sorry for that….you have no idea how much." The billionaire stopped short, reluctant to reveal more of his own feelings for fear of incurring the ex-CIA agent's scorn.

Reese cursed under his breath. "What do you know about it, Harold?" 

He turned back to his employer and the bleakness in his blue eyes struck a nerve with the older man.

"Have you ever known what it's like to lose someone you love? To even understand how loving someone feels?"

The op’s words cut him just as deeply as any knife would have. 

"Yes, Mr. Reese. I _have_ and I do."

Finch lurched to his feet and limped out of the reading room.

John’s head snapped up in time to see Harold disappear through the doorway. The recluse’s answer had been thick with pain.

“What?!”

Finch stood with his back to the reading room, his small frame outlined by the light filtering in through the window he stared out of. Reese could see him trembling.

“Do you surmise Mr. Reese that since I’m not good with ‘human interactions’, it must mean that I don’t care?” The recluse gave a quiet chuff of frustration. “I lost someone I cared for very much. Someone who should not have died when they did, who had a long life ahead of them.” 

Harold curled his hand into a fist on the casement, his head dropping in sorrow. “After that, I vowed never to let _anyone_ become that close to me ever again. The irrelevants came first....always would come first. I could never tell anyone about them, or the Machine.” The words poured out of him as he became more agitated.

“So many times I had been betrayed, hurt, deceived. It was such a betrayal that led to Nathan’s death...it was better to be alone than risk it again. If something happened to you I’d-” Finch cut himself off, realizing what he was going to say. _“Oh God...”_

“Harold....” The word was filled with disbelief. “Do you...do you?”

“I love you John. God help me and us both...I love you.” 

Just as Finch was about to walk out of the library he felt the op embrace him from behind. Warm breath puffed against his ear as Reese spoke.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to hear you say that? How long I've wanted to tell you how I felt?" John laughed in stunned amazement.

"I love you too Harold Finch, Wren or whatever the hell your name is." 

Finch tensed as he heard his partner’s declaration then slumped against the younger man’s strong body. “You’ve no reason to. John you could have anyone, anyone in the world. Why on earth would you want-”

Reese's arms tightened about his torso so that the billionaire's back pressed into the op's chest.

"You _are_ my world, Harold! You gave me my life back…made me care again after I'd given up all hope…after I'd decided to die." The op turned Finch so that the recluse faced him; cupping the smaller man‘s chin in his hand and forcing Finch to look him in the eye. “You showed me what real courage is. You’re terrifying and brave and beautiful.”

“John...” Harold felt his face flush at what he considered outrageous compliments. There was no denying his sincerity however, nor the way his physical closeness affected the recluse. 

"After awhile I thought you began to feel that way too. Only someone who loved me would have risked trying to save me that night in the garage. You never said anything before now though and I didn‘t want to lose what I had with you."

Finch closed his eyes, trying to absorb everything. _If I could just be sure that this was real...that he meant it._

Reese's lips brushed his, hesitant; almost as if he expected his partner to object. Finch claimed the op’s mouth with an assertiveness that rocked John back on his heels. Harold’s veneer of careful restraint cracked, exposing the desire for the younger man that he’d hid for so long. 

John willingly opened his mouth to Finch’s questing tongue, meeting it with his own and deepening the kiss. His hands slid down the recluse’s back; snaking underneath the Armani jacket to settle at Harold’s waist. He felt Finch’s fingers grip the back of his neck, pulling his head down.

A surge of warmth pulsed down to John’s groin. He who was so accustomed to being the dominant partner in his romantic liaisons was surprised at how aroused he was by Finch’s man-handling. He broke their kiss long enough to suck in a deep breath. “Do you want-”

“Yes,” Harold’s eyes were dark with desire. “but not here.”

“My apartment?”

Finch’s smile of agreement was all the reply Reese required.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Sorry to cliff-hang you all here but there will be lots of smutty fun between our boys in the next chapter, as well as finding out what is happening with Danni and Lionel. STAY TUNED!


	15. Into The Tempest

Title: Working Man  
Chapter XV: Into the Tempest  
Rating: NC-17 (slash is most definitely ahead)  
Pairing: Finch/Reese  
Word Count: 2256

NOTES: This chapter is a slight interlude in the main story. If you don't like male/male sexual encounters, please go to the next chapter when posted.

_Love...looks on tempests and is not shaken. - William Shakespeare_

 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_Neither man spoke during the twenty minute ride to Reese's loft. Finch maintained enough of a distance from his partner so that their bodies didn't touch; nevertheless keeping a hand firmly on John's thigh. The assured pressure on his leg was more arousing than having Harold draped all over him. By the time the car reached his building, Reese's erection had become almost painful._

_The recluse worked the elevator buttons, ushering the younger man into the lift with a possessive touch to the small of his back. He stepped away from Reese for the trip up five floors; his hand resuming its place once they exited the elevator. Harold stood back and allowed John to unlock the door of his apartment, following him in then securing the entrance behind them. Finch rested his hand on the door for a moment, before turning around._

John was standing in the precise centre of the loft's main space, hands held loosely at his sides and relaxed but alert. _At ease,_ thought the billionaire....as if waiting for orders, _from me?_ The realization was startling and yet empowering at the same time. He'd been surprised when Reese ceded the upper hand to him in the library. The recluse hadn't planned on being assertive but when it happened, John had willingly followed his lead. 

_And still wished to, it seemed..._

"Remove your clothing, Mr. Reese." The recluse's voice was quiet but his tone radiated authority and John found himself responding at once. He meant it when he'd told Finch that the older man was his world. For Reese there was none other whose protection, needs, _desires_ meant more to him than Harold's did. With slow, deliberate movements John shed his garments. The constant on again-off again contact with his boss had kept the op's senses distracted. As he hung up his coat and shirt, John felt Finch's eyes on his back.

He stepped out of his shoes; undoing his pants. Stripping out of them and his socks, John draped the clothes over a chair. Reese's hands moved to his underwear, halting at Harold' quiet "No."

"Leave them on, John; turn and face me."

Reese did so, raising his eyebrows at the sight of Finch in his shirtsleeves, his suit jacket and waistcoat discarded on the sofa. The older man was loosening his tie, working the knot free with careful fingers; his eyes never leaving John's face.

When the peacock blue strip of silk had been pulled from Finch's neck, the recluse slid it through his hands as he stepped closer to his op. "Place your hands behind your back."

Reese did so, lacing his fingers together. Finch stood for a long moment, filling his eyes with the sight of his partner's body. John instinctively stood straighter, tightening his abdomen. Harold chuckled and moved behind the taller man. He placed the silk tie in John's hands, closing his fingers over the thin strip of fabric. "Hold this....no matter what I do or say, don't let go of it."

The op nodded as the billionaire stepped around to face him once more.

Harold rested his palm against the younger man's chest; taking in the warmth of his skin and the slight trembling of Reese's muscles. John's face was flushed and he swallowed as the recluse trailed his fingers down to toy with the scar on his abdomen. 

"What do you want John?"

"You…" the reply was simple and direct. "Whatever you choose to give me, as long as it's what you want too."

A slight smile played over the billionaire's lips and he reached up; the nimble fingers capturing Reese's nipple and pinching it. The op sucked in a deep breath, biting his lip as Finch continued to tease him.

"I see….and what if all I want is to do _this_?" Harold rolled the now tight nodule of skin between his fingers, smiling again as Reese grunted in pleasure. "Only this John, as I describe to you how else I want to touch you? I've thought about doing that many, many times."

_"H-Harold…."_ The younger man's flush spread down to his chest, warmth flooding straight to his already stiff cock.

"I want to bend you over my desk, John Reese…." Finch's voice dropped a half-octave as he too began to get caught up in his own fantasy. "want to run my hands over your back and buttocks… _feel_ how firm they are in my fingers." 

He worked the op's nipple harder, pulling the sensitive bud up and scratching his thumbnail over its tip. "I want to spread you wide, see your opening…tease it with my fingertip. Would you like that John?"

Reese's penis was straining against the thin cotton of his briefs. "Yes… _please Harold_!"

"I'd take my time John....working your tight ring of muscle until you relax enough to let me slip inside. I bet you've never had anyone do that to you; have you?"

The op felt his cheeks heat up as he jerked his head sideways in negation. 

"Well, I'd make certain it wouldn't hurt, in fact I know you'd _enjoy_ how I would make you feel." Finch continued, his voice thick with promise. "I'd also take you in my hand…stroking you from your balls all the way to your tip. Are you circumcised John?"

"Yes…."

"Well, then I'll have to work all that harder to make you come won't I?" Harold could feel his own erection growing. The thought of slamming into the handsome soldier now squirming beneath his fingers was almost enough to bring him off right then. Finch concentrated on his partner, wanting to see him orgasm first. 

The billionaire's explicit descriptions were having a devastating effect on Reese's willpower. Between the amazing nipple work he was receiving and the images Finch's words were creating in his mind, John was hard-pressed to control himself.

"I'd rub your glans, stimulating it until, oh lovely….yes, that's what I'd make you do." The smug satisfaction in Finch's voice corresponded to a spreading dampness surrounding John's head; preseminal fluid soaking into his briefs.

"Very good John. Then, while you were so close to your edge, I'd reach down and take your testicles in my hand, squeezing you…but gently, _oh so gently_ as I worked my finger deep inside you. Can you feel me there John?"

The op had closed his eyes by this time and it seemed as though he _could_ feel Harold's touch. He nodded, unable to articulate a verbal response now.

"Just a little deeper until I found your prostate. Then I'd stroke you, slow and easy at first….building up bit by bit as the sensations grow stronger. Your cock is dripping now John…can you feel it?" The dark stain on Reese's underwear had grown larger, the warm wetness stimulating his sensitized organ all the more.

"You're so close John…just a bit more pressure until…" Harold pinched his nipple hard.

The op cried out; his hips jerking as he spilled himself in his boxer briefs, semen dripping out of the leg openings of the now soaking garment. John doubled over, his hair falling in his eyes as he shuddered, working through the aftershocks ticking along his spine.

"Harold… _oh God…_ "

Finch cradled his partner's head in his hands, lifting it so that he once again could claim the warm, sensual mouth. 

"You are _mine_ John Reese." Harold's voice though low was insistent. "Do you understand that?" Harold bit the op's lower lip before trailing kisses down to the younger man's chest and capturing Reese's other nipple in his mouth.

"Y-yes….I… _Harold_!" John's affirmation was cut short as Finch began suckling him. The billionaire snaked his hand down, working his fingers beneath the waistband of the younger man's boxer briefs. Cool air brushed John's bare skin as Finch stripped him of the last of his clothing. Strong, sure fingers caressed his now flaccid penis, collecting a generous portion of semen in the process.

Harold smeared the evidence of his persuasive powers over John's lips; covering them once again with his. Reese tasted his own essence mingling with honey and green tea as Finch's tongue probed his mouth. The younger man was startled by the needy sounds that came from his own throat as his boss extended their kiss.

_Nothing like this before...ever. John had never let anyone take the upper hand with him, never_ wanted _anyone to...until now. Allowing Finch to make free with his body had brought him the best climax he could ever remember experiencing. It wasn't the novelty of being submissive, he realized. It was the fact that he trusted Harold...trusted him completely. Handler, friend, lover...he knew that Finch would take care of him always; would never betray him and that was a potent aphrodisiac in itself._

When Harold broke their kiss at last, both men were breathless. John's eyes were closed as he sucked in air. He felt gentle fingers stroke the hair out of his eyes; caressing his cheek before cupping his chin.

"Go clean up. I'll be waiting for you."

Reese opened his eyes to see Finch's gray-blue ones staring back at him. The recluse's gaze full of warm affection. Reaching behind the op's back, Harold reclaimed his tie; stroking the younger man's fingers. "You did very well John. Thank you."

"May I-"

"Yes." Harold's shy smile promised many things and the op gathered up his soiled briefs; heading for the bathroom with alacrity.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Hours later, Harold Finch lay awake in the darkness. John was deep in slumber; the op's strong, lean body a warm and comforting presence at his side. The younger man had one arm draped over Finch's chest, much to the recluse’s secret satisfaction.

He'd never been one for prolonged physical contact with anyone...even Nathan and he had rarely 'cuddled', so to speak. With Reese, touching seemed not only natural but essential. The intimacies he and John had shared startled Harold with the depth of feeling they’d aroused in him; Finch was still humbled by the fact that Reese had chosen him over anyone else. 

Finch's back and hip were sore to be sure from his earlier activities but the peace that had descended upon his soul more than made up for his physical discomforts. Harold had never felt so safe, so protected. To his surprise, he’d found that the one place he could let down his guard without hesitation was in the company of a man who could kill him with the slightest of effort. The billionaire sighed, closing his eyes and letting sleep steal over him at last. 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

They spent the better part of the next morning in discussion about Lionel Fusco's situation. Reese was mortified at his behavior towards the couple and full of remorse for the confrontation he'd had with Lionel and Danni in the park. 

In retrospect, John realized he’d been off-balance since his confrontation with Harold about ordering Fusco to follow the recluse. He’d turned his frustration with Finch’s trust issues and his feelings for his employer on the detective; using Lionel’s relationship with Danni as his scapegoat. The op’s first instinct had been to track both parties down and make amends but Finch discouraged him.

"The detective may be inclined to shoot first and ask questions later. As for Ms. Briggs…I shudder to think what she might be capable of while angered."

For his part, Harold had fully disclosed to the op his identity of Harold Drake and his interactions with the performer. Reese smiled at him when he'd finished his story.

"You miss it don't you? Performing I mean."

Finch blinked at him for a moment, the look of sarcasm he expected to see not materializing. Realizing that his partner was serious, Harold returned the smile.

"I do a bit, Mr. Reese." He paused, looking back into his past and reliving some of the few fond memories he had from college. "I haven't done so since I was in school but I did enjoy it and I was fairly good at it…or so I was told."

"Would you perform with Ms. Briggs if she asked?"

"I would want to but I'd have to decline. My lurching about after her lion character would probably frighten the audience." 

John slid out of his chair and onto his knees in front of the recluse; wrapping his arms around the slender body of his now lover. "I think you're worrying too much and if she does ask you should say yes." He kissed Finch with a tenderness that made the billionaire's heart skip a beat.

Finch cleared his throat, combing his fingers through John's hair to mask his embarrassment. "Well, that's for consideration at a later time. Right now, the problem is how to mend this schism between the two of them."

He looked over his glasses at the younger man. "I think Harold Drake will have to talk to Danni and Mr. Finch with the detective." Harold sighed. "This isn't going to be an easy mess to clean up, Mr. Reese."

"I know and if I can ever do so in person without courting a murder attempt I'll apologize to both of them."

"I still can't believe this was because of me."

"Why not Harold? Don't you think you're worth getting jealous about?"

"Not especially, no."

"Then I think I need to show you again just how special you are."


	16. Tempest-Tossed

Title: Working Man  
Chapter XVI: Tempest-tossed  
Rating: M  
Pairing: Lionel Fusco/OFC  
Warnings: angst, swearing,  
Word Count: 3260

　  
 **poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

　

_Danni Briggs was miserable. After getting back to her building, she'd left the detective several messages on his home and cellphones; refusing to leave her apartment lest she miss any call he might make. It was all to no avail. Four days of holding out hope resulted in nothing and the performer finally accepted that, apparently things were over between her and Lionel._

_She'd broken down then, spending the night on her couch; hoping avoiding her bedroom might keep the memories from overwhelming her. They came anyway. Meeting Lionel in the park, her argument with him. Flowers, the fortune cookies, their movie night. Talking in Battery Park...the first time he'd touched her intimately. Danni hugged her knees, the tears sliding down her face as her heart split in two._

_“Lionel....I’d give anything if only-”_

_The performer lay down, covering herself with an old quilt. She had to try and go out tomorrow.....to the studio maybe. She didn't feel like rehearsing but perhaps the familiar space might bring her a bit of stability._

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

_Next day, Medves Studios, Brooklyn_

Finch paused at the door to Danni’s studio. He needed to do this, _wanted_ to but to go in there and interact with her as if he were ignorant of what had happened was going to take a performance worthy of an Oscar.

The billionaire took a deep breath, centering himself in the persona of Harold Drake. Happy to be feeling useful again and share some time with his new friend. He shifted the cardboard tray holding two foam cups and a bag of pastries into one hand and knocked on the door, before stepping inside.

“Danni? Good morning. I’ve brought an offering for the gods of creativity.” Finch’s voice was pleasantly upbeat and warm. The studio owner placed the tray on the corner of the piano lid and looked around. 

The performer was in the furthest corner away from the door, staring out of the window to the alleyway below, arms wrapped around herself.

Harold’s heart contracted as he looked at her dejected posture. _Focus!_ He told himself.

“Danni?” he limped a little closer to her. “Are you alright?” Harold Drake drew in a breath of shock when the actor turned to him, her face showing obvious signs that she’d been crying. He hurried over to her as fast as his leg would allow.

“Oh my God, Danielle....what’s wrong?” 

The street artist took a step towards him and buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Harold...”

The older man wrapped his arms around her at once, making soothing noises as he held her close. “Danni, what's happened? What can I do?”

“It’s all so stupid....” her voice was muffled by Finch’s sweater.

“It can’t be too absurd, if it has you this upset.” He replied. “Talk to me, Danni.” His tone firmed up as he tried to get her thinking again. He took a chance, after all Harold Drake was an intuitive artist....he should be pretty good at putting two and two together. 

“Does this involve your young man?”

Danni stepped back, wiping her eyes and took a deep breath; managing a half-hearted laugh. “Are you a psychic now too?” 

The recluse smiled at her. “I’ve had my share of matters of the heart gone awry...odd as that may seem in one my age.”

“You’re not old, Harold.” 

Finch flushed a bit at the compliment, however he was more pleased that she seemed to be getting back on even keel. 

“You’re kind, Danni but tell me...what has _he_ done?” He made his voice harden as any friend’s would, automatically assuming that it was the boyfriend’s fault.

“No...it’s not like that...it’s... Something I should have told Lionel before now got dropped on him like a ton of bricks by an outside source.” The performer began to pace back and forth. 

“Now Lionel won’t even talk to me...won’t return my calls. He’s really hurt and I can’t even explain things to him.”

The billionaire gently steered her back to the piano, settling Danni on the bench and pressing the cup of coffee into her hands. “Drink.” he told her, pulling a chair over for himself. “Deep breaths, focus and tell me what this is all about.”

Bit by bit the whole story came out, thanks to Finch’s skillful coaxing. He reacted with plausible empathy and surprise as Danni revealed the death of her parents and the state of her finances. When she had finished, the recluse took a few moments to ‘absorb’ what she’d told him. He sipped his tea, ostensibly lost in thought.

“May I ask why you didn’t say anything to Mr. Fusco about your, resources?”

“As crazy as it sounds, Harold I didn’t think to.” Danni shrugged her shoulders and took a long drag on her coffee. 

“I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring the settlement in the past six years....I didn’t want it, I didn’t ask for it and I certainly don’t need it.”

“I take it the civil case wasn’t your idea.”

The performer nodded. “Our family lawyer...well...Mr. Owens was more than just my parents’ legal counsel, he was their best friend. I was in shock after the accident and so drugged up for the pain; I was in no shape to think rationally. Mr. Owens took charge of the case and when I was released from the hospital and aware of what was going on again, he presented me with the paperwork...all neat and tidy.”

Finch set his cup aside. “You see the funds as...forgive me for lack of a better term,”

“Blood money?” Danni finished for him. “Yes, I do. I don’t think about it at all until I get the annual tax statements from the bank. I don’t know how that man found out about it but he made things sound like I was playing Lionel...that I didn’t care about him at all.” Her voice hardened again. 

The billionaire now felt sad rather than angry about John's blow up with the detective and Danni. He didn't excuse the op for what he'd done but thanks to the understanding they'd reached yesterday, he was inclined to be more forgiving.

" _John_...that's his name, that's what Lionel called him after the first time he showed up."

 _“First time?”_ Drake was surprised. “You mean this man has accosted you before?”

Danni briefly related their encounter with the ‘informant’ from months ago. In spite of the gravity of her current situation, Finch couldn’t help chuckling at her descriptions of Reese falling into the fountain. He remembered his op dripping on the reading room floor. 

“You actually kicked him?”

“Harold, you’ve known me for almost six months now...can you honestly say that I’m a _‘delicate creature whom breath might have wither’d’?_ ”

 _Touché_ , he thought appreciating that she could crib Dickens at this time. His eyes grew serious as he returned to the original discussion.

“Do you know this...John?”

Danni shook her head. “No, but Lionel does. I think he may be a confidential informant or something...they seem to have worked together in the past.”

“You never asked Mr. Fusco about him?”

“Lionel’s a cop and I know that with that will come some things that he won’t be able to tell me. It’s part of his job.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why should it? Everyone has things they have to keep to themselves...for many reasons. I know Lionel is a good person. I know he loves me, that’s why he’s so angry now...he thinks I’ve betrayed him. I guess in a way I have.” Danni’s voice petered out as her feelings of guilt resurfaced.

The billionaire was struck anew at how balanced of a person Danielle Briggs was. Many people, regardless of gender, would have been eaten alive by the need to find out everything about their partners; as Finch well knew from his own experience with his op. 

_John should spend some time talking with her...perhaps his outlook would change._ Harold knew the futility of that wish even as he thought it. 

“Danni...would you mind if I tried to help?”

“I’m open to suggestions but you've never met Lionel...what can you do?”

“I have some friends in the eighth precinct. If I could arrange for him to be at a place of your choosing would you try and talk to him?”

“Harold, even if it's just to explain things and say goodbye, if you can make that happen then I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.”

Finch grasped her hands again. “This isn’t about owing or debts, Danni. This is one friend helping another.” He smiled as she leaned forward to hug him. 

“Harold Drake, I love you.”

“Well....don’t let Detective Fusco hear you say that; I have an aversion to holding cells.” They both laughed. 

Finch stood up. “Come on. I think you need to get some air and I know I can use exercise. Let’s get something more substantial to eat and I’ll walk you back home.”

They parted at Danni’s stoop. Finch assured her that he would contact her as soon as he had something worked out and limped around the block before calling his car service to pick him up.

The recluse settled in the comfortable leather interior and instructed his driver to take him back to Manhattan; letting out a deep sigh as he was at last able to relax. _Stage one successfully accomplished,_ he thought with a touch of smugness. He could return to his base of operations, change back into one of his beloved suits and get to work on Fusco. 

His only regret was that when all of this was sorted out, Harold Drake would have to disappear. The billionaire had grown quite fond of his new friend and would miss Danni terribly. Getting to assist with her choreography and routines had been tremendous fun; putting him back in touch with a part of himself that he'd given up long ago. Finch knew that it would have to end this way but that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

It took Finch another two days to track down Lionel. The detective had taken the initiative not only to turn off his work mobile when not on duty but his auxiliary phone as well, removing that one’s battery in addition. The recluse was forced to look for him the old-fashioned way, starting with his usual movement patterns. He finally caught up with the man outside his apartment building.

"Detective? A word if you please." 

Fusco turned at the sound, his scowl deepening as he stared down at the nattily dressed figure on the sidewalk below.

"Look Mr. Goodnews, I'm not feeling like doing you favors any more than I do for Wonderboy." 

“Although this doesn’t involve a _case_ I’m working Mr. Fusco, I do need to speak with you.”

“Yeah? Too bad Professor.” the detective’s expression was closed. “I’ve got my hands full trying to keep my son from hating me now that the person he cares about the most in this world other than me isn’t coming to see him anymore. So pardon me if I don’t give a rat’s ass about what you or Mr. Sunshine need.”

“It concerns Ms. Briggs.”

“Then I know for sure I don’t want to talk to you, _piss off!_ ” Lionel turned back to the door, wrangling in his pocket for his keys.

“Detective as out of character as it is for me to do so normally, in these circumstances I feel compelled to inform you that you’re behaving like an unmitigated ass.”

Fusco whirled around, his face darkening with frustrated anger.

“Where do you get off passing judgment on me?! _I'm_ not the God-damned one keeping secrets from everyone. Why not lay this on Danni's fucking doorstep? It's what she deserves!”

“I suggest having a care in regards to your language, detective.” Finch’s tone held a note of warning.

“Screw that, she lied to me!”

“Not intentionally and certainly not because she was toying with you, Mr. Fusco.” The billionaire fixed the cop with a hard stare. 

“To understand her motives you need to speak with _her_ and you know in your heart detective, how much Danni loves you. Even a ‘nosy, paranoid, old, half-blind coot’ like myself can see that.” The look Finch leveled at him made Lionel squirm as he remembered his off-hand remark from months ago.

“You, uh...heard that did you?”

“Occupational hazard.” came the dry rejoinder.

“Wait...”, the recluse’s words finally sunk in.

Fusco turned back to the billionaire, his anger instantly turning to indignation. “When did? You been spying on her too, Finch? So help me if you have, I'll..."

"That is neither here nor there and _you_ are not in the position to make threats or demands, detective. The point is, I know the young lady in question very much wants to see you." Finch stepped in close to Lionel, his eyes cold behind the lenses of his glasses.

"I can arrange a meeting between the two of you but I promise, Detective Fusco, that if you hurt Ms. Briggs further I will personally make you regret it... _without_ the assistance of our mutual friend."

Lionel didn't doubt it but that wasn't his concern at the moment. Being face to face with Danni now occupied his full attention. His initial anger at Finch's confrontation with him had burned out quickly; leaving behind hurt and an aching emptiness; his constant companions since Reese's revelation in the park. 

The detective found himself missing the performer in a million ways. His thoughts would wander back to how easy she had been to talk to, right from the beginning. How she made him feel wanted.... _special_. He remembered each kiss, every intimacy they'd shared and Fusco’d been hard pressed to hide his reaction. He _knew_ Danni loved him...just as sure as he was of his feelings for her. Knew she loved Mickey too... _hadn’t she brought him safely home from Brooklyn when the kid tracked her down to ask why his dad was angry at her?_

_But why? Why would she keep something so big from me?_

The only way to find that out would be to ask her. Lionel ducked his head, picturing their second date when he’d fallen asleep in her lap after the movie and Danni had wound up staying the night. His heart contracted and Lionel had to swallow the lump in his throat.

"I love her too...that's why it hurts so bad."

"Then see her detective, speak with her. Will you come to the arcade Sunday morning, at eight o'clock?" Finch knew Fusco was scheduled off.

"She'll be there?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll show too."

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_Sunday, Bethesda Fountain Terrace; Central Park_

Fusco stood off to the side watching the performer. Danni was leaning on the terrace fence; elbows propped on the stone railing, fingers laced together and pressed against her lips. Her expression was so sad as she stared into the middle distance over the fountain square.

The realization that their estrangement had hit her just as hard stopped Lionel cold and another wave of guilt washed over him. _Time to try and fix this...if we can._ The detective gathered his courage and walked over to her.

 

“Hello Danni.”

The street artist started, turning to face the man who’d come up on her undetected.

“Lionel?” Danni took a step closer to him, one hand extended halfway...as if she were afraid he might brush it aside.

Fusco closed the gap between them and for a long moment the man and woman just looked at each other...both trying to decide what to say.

 _“Oh Lionel...”_ she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and pulling the detective close.

Her quiet relief undid him and he hugged her back; tears pricking his eyes as he held her. “D....”

“I thought I’d never see you again.” The performer murmured into his ear. "I can't believe you're here."

The detective tightened his hold on her a moment, then relaxed his arms enough that he could pull back to look her in the face. His heart melted as he saw that she was crying.

 _"Danni..."_ He tried to wipe her tears away with his thumb.

"I'm so sorry, Li....I didn't mean t-"

"I know, Danni-girl." 

She sobbed at the use of his nickname for her. Fusco leaned in and kissed her forehead and cheek, tasting salt and not sure if it was from her tears or his. 

"I missed you so much D." He ducked his head, ashamed. "If...if you still want to talk, I'm ready to listen. I'm sorry I was such a son of a bitch."

"That doesn't matter now...all that does is your being here."

“You wanna get something to eat?” His anxiety was ramping back up, afraid that he might accidentally spook her.

“I'm not leaving, Li.....I know we've got a lot to discuss. I would like to go somewhere more private, though."

Fusco started to say something when his phone chirped.

Danni gave a soft laugh. "You'd better get it, Detective Actually...it might be work and, I'll wait for you." 

She kissed his cheek and stepped back to give him some privacy. Lionel squeezed her fingers then turned aside as he answered the call.

"Yeah, Fusco here."

_"Detective, you're welcome to take Ms. Briggs to a property of mine just off Fifth Avenue."_

"How did you-" Lionel looked around the park, then at the phone in his hand. "Never mind, you know everything don't you?"

_"It's a studio apartment at the corner of Fifth and East 94th; I've sent the address to your phone. The lock code is 9754. The kitchen is fully stocked. Please make yourselves at home for as long as you wish to."_

"Uh...thanks, I guess."

 _"Not at all and Detective? Good luck."_ Finch ended the call. 

Lionel looked over and saw Danni waiting for him. She smiled when she saw the detective glance her way. Fusco felt his heart swell and he pulled her into a hug.

“Everything okay, Li?”

“Yeah...look Danni. A friend of mine has a place real close that he lets me use when he’s out of town. We can talk there if you want.”

The performer nodded. “I’d like that.”

 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

Although the modified studio’s square footage was small, it was impeccably designed. It’s open air layout made it seem much more spacious...as did the floor to ceiling windows facing the park. Kitchen, dining and living areas were kept from bleeding into one another by the strategic placement of a sideboard here and a bookshelf there.

Danni took in her surroundings with a whistle of appreciation. “Wow, Lionel...you’ve got some high-class friends!” She stopped, turning back to the detective, fearing that she might have crossed a line with her off-hand remark.

The detective took the comment in the spirit she'd intended it and gave her a grin. "You have no idea."

Fusco slipped out of his suit coat, hanging it and his tie on the rack of hooks next to the door. 

He sat down on the overstuffed leather sofa and leaned back into the cushions, trying to relax. "My friend....I've done him some favors and this is his way of saying thank you.” He placed his hand on the seat next to him. “You...feel like talkin'?”

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

NOTES: There's one chapter left to go on 'Working Man', it will be a long one and probably include some sexy scenes for both our couples. Thanks everyone for your patience with this drawn out look into Detective Fusco's life. I've had fun writing it and I hope you've enjoyed reading it.


	17. All That Ends

Title: Working Man  
Chapter XVII: All That Ends....  
Rating: Strong T (angst, emo and mushy stuff)  
Pairing: Fusco/OFC; Finch/Reese  
Word Count: 3950

 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_Sunday 9:57 am; Studio Apartment, Manhattan_

Danni told Lionel everything. About her time at Julliard and her brief career; her parents’ death, her recuperation and the lawsuit. Especially her feelings about the settlement. 

Fusco listened without comment; sitting for a long time in silence as he mulled through everything. Danni let him be, knowing that what she’d related was a lot to take in at once. She waited patiently, ready to answer any questions he might ask and just as prepared to have the detective tell her it was over between them.

Lionel took a deep breath and caught Danni’s eyes. “So...your stage career, that’s gone now?”

The performer nodded. “My injuries have healed as much as they’re going to. I get around just fine most of the time but long hours of stage work, dancing and rehearsals? My leg won‘t take it anymore.” Danni’s smile was sad. 

“I guess that’s why I enjoy doing Artemis so much. He lets me hold on to a small part of acting anyway.” She looked at her hands and grimaced. “I’m not television or film material, I know. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I‘m just being honest.”

“I like doing character work, don’t get me wrong. It’s...” Danni exhaled, trying to marshal her thoughts. “you have to be phenomenally lucky to make a good living as a character actor in movies or TV. I actually have more steady work, albeit at less of an income tier, doing Artemis than I would in the entertainment industry. There’s more flexibility too. I‘m not automatically ‘typecast‘ as the best friend or comic relief just because I happen to be female.”

“Sounds like Hollywood’s loss to me, D.”

Danni smiled at this declaration. When she looked at Fusco again, her eyes were bright with ambition. “I’m doing everything that I know how to get Artemis off the streets and into charity and corporate work; that’s what I really want.”

Fusco looked at her. Danni’s face had become animated as she shared her dreams with him about her future plans. He chose his next words with great care.

“Have you thought about spending some of the settlement to make that happen?”

The performer looked puzzled. “What?”

The detective shrugged, as if weighing the validity of his suggestion. "Seems to me your folks would want you to use all your resources to grow your business, Danni. I think they'd be proud of how you've adapted after the accident." Lionel's hazel eyes were full of love. "I know I'm proud of you."

"Geez Li…." Danni dissolved into tears. "what have I told you about saying the right thing?!"

Fusco gathered her to him, laying back on the sofa so that the performer was stretched out on top of him. "I mean it D….look what you came through without giving up! You got more guts than most of this city put together. I know you'd never string me along and I can understand now why you didn't say anything about the money." The detective pulled her in for a long, sweet kiss.

"I love you Danielle Briggs. Will you forgive me for bein' an idiot?"

"I love you too Bright Eyes. Yes, if you'll forgive me."

"Nothin' for you to be sorry for, Beautiful."

 

_Harold Finch broke the audio connection to his apartment surveillance system as Fusco and the performer's conversation took a more 'intimate' turn. He smiled in satisfaction however as he turned to the more mundane matters of admin housekeeping on the Machine. It looked as though things would work out in the end for the detective and Danni._

_Finch found himself looking forward to having dinner at Reese's apartment that evening, then sighed. With no new number to assist and John occupied with 'top secret' preparations for his visit, Harold had some time on his hands and no further excuse to put off an unpleasant task. He forced himself to set in motion the chain of events that would result in 'Harold Drake' leaving New York for an undetermined length of time._

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_Sunday afternoon; 2pm_

Keys rattled in the door lock and it opened. Mickey had his back turned as he came in the apartment, concentrating on getting his bulky gear bag through the doorframe.

"Dad, you here?"

"Yeah Mickey, we're here."

"We?" The younger Fusco looked up and saw Danni sitting on their couch. She was smiling at him but her eyes were worried, afraid almost. Mickey's gaze shifted to her lap where his father was holding her hands in his own. 

"You came back...." he whispered, his heart swelling with hope, fear, joy and a trace of anger that was instantly smothered by a sense of relief so profound it made the boy shake.

"Michael..." Danni held her hand out to him and he threw himself into her embrace, hugging her so tight she gritted her teeth against the pain. He started to cry when he felt the performer hug him back, kissing the crown of his head and resting her cheek against the spot.

"I missed you so much, Mickey. I'm so sorry about everything."

Lionel slid off the sofa and wrapped them both up in a hug. "I'm sorry too son. Most of this was my fault."

The boy mumbled something that sounded like 'okay now?' and Danni held him tighter. 

"Your dad and I talked for a long time. We're fine now, Mickey... _I promise_."

The grownups felt him squirm and leaned back enough so he could wipe his face. Mickey glared up at them. "Don't you ever go away again! I don't care how mad you get at each other!" 

"Hey, easy there Mick...." Lionel tried to deflect some of the nine year old's anger onto himself. His son scowled at him.

"And you shoulda talked to Danni, Dad! You're always telling me I need to talk to you when I'm mad, right?"

"Yes."

"Then you do it too!" Mickey's breath hitched, fresh tears marring his cheeks. "I was so scared you weren't coming back, Danni."

The woman gathered him close again, reassuring the boy with quiet words. Lionel cupped the back of Mickey's head, ruffling his hair. The adults waited with infinite patience until he calmed down at last. 

poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi

 

Dinner was quiet but all three of them were content just to be together. Danni helped Mickey with last-minute homework; Lionel tossing in an occasional comment as he did the dishes. The boy got his bath and, snuggled down between the two adults on the couch, queued up one of his favorite movies. All too soon the stress of the day caught up with him and Mickey yawned hugely.

He rubbed his eyes and gave Danni his best ‘pleeeeeaaaasse’ look. "Would you tuck me in?"

"Sure squirt," Danni grinned when Mickey stuck his tongue out at her. "Jump in bed and I'll be right there."

He stopped at his door and turned back to look at her. "Are you going to stay tonight? I mean, it's not Friday but..."

"If you and your dad want me to I will, Mickey."

He nodded fiercely. "Yeah we do...don't we dad?"

Lionel nodded just as fiercely. "Yeah _we_ do!"

"Well then I yield to the majority." She pointed to his bedroom. "Scoot!"

Mickey's smile was huge as he headed to bed.

Lionel wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her back against his chest. "I hope you don't mind, we both really want you here."

"Mind? Bright Eyes, you couldn't pull me out of here with the jaws of life tonight." Danni turned in his arms, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him in for a deep kiss. "I just got you back, Li....and I'm not turning you loose ever again."

She laughed at the huge grin on the detective's face when she released his lips. 

"You took the words right out of my mouth D." He gave her a peck on the cheek before letting her go get his son settled for the night.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Fusco puttered around his bedroom, wanting to make sure that everything was just so. He could hear the quiet murmur of Danni's voice and grinned as he realized she was reading Mickey a chapter from his latest book. The detective paused, unloading his pockets on the top of his dresser; his eyes falling again the rectangular velvet box resting next to his glasses. Although he'd planned on giving Danni a key to his place before their fallout, the ring and fob it was now attached to were brand new. 

He recalled his acquisition of them just a couple of days ago. In need of expert advice, he'd sought out the best source he could think of.

 

_"So...thanks for letting us uh...talk at your place."_

_"Not at all, Detective." Lionel was surprised to hear the capitalization of his title in Finch's reply. He wasn't used to receiving much respect from Mutt or Jeff. The recluse offered a small smile._

_"I trust you and Ms. Briggs have worked things out, so to speak?"_

_"Yeah, we're good." Fusco fidgeted for a moment. "Look, um....I wanted to ask. I mean, I want to get a gift for someone....something quality, I mean and,"_

_"I can recommend several jewelers, Detective. Did you have a specific type of gift in mind?"_

_There was that respect again....Lionel wasn't sure he could deal with it right now. He shook off his disorientation and described what he was thinking of._

_The billionaire seemed slightly disappointed but offered some suggestions as to practicality and design. "Platinum, in combination with fine leather will make for a beautiful and long-wearing accessory."_

 

Fusco had taken the professor's advice but the monogram he'd chosen was his own idea. An elegant script L and D occupied opposite corners, with a matching M in the center of the platinum fob medallion. The leather backing and short strap were deep brown. He hoped Danni would like it. He couldn't think of any better way to show her that his home, his heart...his very life were open to her completely.

"Hey Detective Actually."

Lionel turned and his smile stretched to his ears as he saw Danni standing in the doorway of the bedroom. "Hey yourself, Beautiful. Coming to bed Danni-girl?"

"Thought you'd never ask..." 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_Tuesday Morning; Medves Studios, Brooklyn_

Danni sailed in through the front door of the rehearsal building singing as she hauled her cart behind her.

_You’ll...never get away from me;_  
 _You can climb the tallest tree;_  
 _I’ll be there somehow!_

_True, you could say “hey, here’s your hat!”_  
 _But a little thing like that;_  
 _Couldn’t stop me now!_

She grinned as she caught sight of Mr. Murray, waltzing over to the janitor and continuing her song

_I couldn’t get away from you;_  
 _Even if you told me to....._  
 _So go on and try....just try!_

_And you’re gonna see;_  
 _How you’re gonna not at all;_  
 _Get away from me........._

Danni petered out at the grim look on the old man’s face. “What’s wrong Mr. Murray?”

He exhaled. “Don’t like change is all. Just got used to that Drake fella and now...” Arthur shook his head, wringing his mop out.

“What do you mean? Has something happened to Mr. Drake?”

The janitor fell to mopping again, working his irritation off on the linoleum floor of the foyer. “He’s gone!” Murray rolled a sardonic eye at the performer. “Some business opportunity or somethin’s got him flittin’ off to God knows where.” 

He was about to comment further on the flightiness of theatre folk in general but Danni had hastened away to the studio owner’s office. The old man sighed, shaking his head again before tossing over his shoulder “He ain’t there, Miss Briggs!”

The glass-paned door with it’s neat copperplate script reading ‘H. Drake, Prop.’ stood ajar and Danni eased it open, looking around the small space. The clutter indicative of Drake’s occupation of the office was conspicuous by its absence. The old wooden desk had been cleared and wiped clean. The Hirschfield prints had been taken down; the bare wooden walls looking heartbreakingly forlorn without their ornamentation of press-clippings and framed playbills.

_I can’t believe it’s true...._

Danni turned in a circle, taking in the desolation yet still not quite processing it. She sat down hard in the chair closest to the door. _He didn’t say a word about this....didn’t say goodbye and I wanted to tell him...to say thank you, for so much._

She stood up, shifting from one foot to the other, feeling the need to escape....thinking that if she left this would just turn out to be some bad dream or very poor joke and her friend would be waiting for her in the hallway to say ‘gotcha’, his eyes glinting with that trace of mischief he showed from time to time. Danni fled the empty office, grabbing her bag to leave the building entirely when she changed her mind, punching the elevator button and riding up to her studio on the third floor.

Mr. Murray watched the doors slide shut behind her and sighed again. He knew how close Danni and his boss had grown and most of his annoyance at Drake leaving was because of how he knew the performer would feel when she found out. The janitor would have quit if he didn’t think things would go even more to hell around here than they already had if he did.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

By the time she reached the third floor, Danni had begun cursing in graphic detail...by the time she opened the door to her studio, she had released enough anger that she slipped back into grief. _How could he do this? Just walk away? I wanted him to meet Lionel...to get his approval._

The truth of the matter was the performer had come to consider Harold Drake family. She who had no blood relations left in this world had adopted the warm, eccentric, gentle man without hesitation; finding in him a much loved and kindly uncle who could be counted on to share adventures and heart-to-heart conversations as the situation required.

Danni closed the door behind her, locking it from the inside. She went over and leaned on the upright piano, burying her face in her hands. The performer stood there for a long moment trying to pull herself together. When she lifted her head again she noticed a long envelope on top of three other parcels. 

Danni recognized the precise hand of the studio owner at once and saw that it was inscribed ‘Danielle’. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up; breaking the seal and lifting out several heavy sheets of quality paper. To her astonishment, the letter was entirely hand-written. She counted three sheets of full correspondence and began to read.

 

_Danni;_

_I can just imagine how much you are cursing me at the moment. I can’t say that I blame you and I won’t ask you to forgive me for leaving without even telling you goodbye. The truth is I’ve had an opportunity come up that I just cannot say no to; one that required me to make a decision without delay and necessitated my abrupt departure._

_I fully expected to end the rest of my years as the benevolent dictator of Medves. It was my retirement business actually and that would have suited me admirably. Every performer comes to the point in their careers; whether it be due to age, injury or other reasons, when they find they are no longer able to do the work they love. I felt fortunate that my circumstances allowed me to at least keep one foot in ‘my world’._

_What I didn’t expect was that in the process of adjusting to the new role I’d been given, I would find not only another chance to be useful in my chosen profession again but a friend as well._

_My dear, dear Danielle...meeting and getting to know you has been one of the best gifts that could have been given me, at any time of my life. Lovers come and go but friends, real friends, last the test of time and distance; they augment the joys of our lives and ease the sorrows, their shared tears making all difficult burdens easier to bear. Such have you been to me Danni. I cannot begin to tell you how much your kindness and confidences have meant._

_Your willingness to let an old ham boss you around in your work; your wonderful sense of humor and your compassion to one who isn’t the best at reading their fellow man has brought much joy to me. I am proud to call you my friend...yes present tense, for although I will not be returning to New York for the foreseeable future, I am and will always remain your friend._

Danni’s hand began to shake and she had to sit down to steady her grip on the pages.

_I hope to write to you as soon as I am settled and let you know exactly what has become of me. For now I can only say that I am doing something that has great meaning for me; that I am passionate about and that, I hope, will have good consequences._

_If you’re still reading this, I hope that means that your anger has lessened at least a little. Although I cannot begin to make up for my ‘deserting’ you such a disreputable manner, I do have a few things for you._

_First, your studio is now in fact yours. I have taken it off the rotation schedule and no other tenants will be sharing it. I’ve left the key for you on the piano. It is the only copy so please lock the room behind you as you please. I hope you will continue to rehearse here. If you choose to find another location, I understand but your space will be here waiting for you at any time you choose to use it._

_I’ve also left keys to the main door of the building and the alley entrance in the same envelope. I can think of no other person I would rather have puttering around the studio at all hours and you are welcome at any time, day or night._

_I will never sell Medves and my business manager will handle all the landlord tasks going forward. He has full knowledge of my instructions as to your exclusive access to the building and your studio. If you have any problems please let him know and they will be taken care of at once, his card is enclosed._

_Next, you may not be open to this but I do wish you would take my suggestion into consideration. Please, please think about using some of your money to parley your work into a larger entity. I know how you feel about using it but wouldn’t this be a productive expenditure? Certainly not frivolous in any case. My other reason for suggesting this brings me to the second envelope on the piano._

_Inside you will find the names and contact information for three friends of mine who are well placed in business and charitable circles to employ you, if you still are inclined to bring Artemis ‘in from the great outdoors‘. They know I have full confidence in your reputation and your talent. I hope you choose to utilize them._

Danni smiled through her tears, hearing Drake’s voice so clearly in her mind.

_Finally, my friend, I have to be honest with you at last. You always wondered where I garnered my knowledge of mascots, timing and performance...It was never from coaching my friends. I suppose the cat or in this case, aquatic rodent is out of the bag now._

_I wish you and your detective all the best and I hope things did in fact work out for you. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t find this out in person. Please think of me from time to time and know that I hold you close to heart and mind always. I will contact you as soon as I am able. Au revoir, Ma Ami....je t‘aime._

_Your Very Good Friend;  
Harold Drake_

 

Danni folded the letter up with care, placing it back in its envelope. She opened the smallest of the parcels on the piano. Three keys slid out into her palm and she closed her fingers over them.

Placing the precious bits of metal in her pocket for the moment, the performer opened the second envelope. She was surprised to find that Drake’s sentiments echoed Lionel’s in regards to her business. What the studio owner had left her in the form of these contacts was worth more than all the money in the world. Her friend had given her an ’in’ with organizations that if she’d approached on her own wouldn’t deign to return her calls. 

Danni couldn’t blame them for it. Charities especially had to be so careful about contracting anyone let alone an unknown, masked performer. Drake’s endorsement of her skills and more importantly, her professional standing opened a door to her that Danni thought she never would be able to breach. She looked at the last parcel before opening it and pulling a framed picture out of the padded envelope. The performer’s eyes widened as she stared at the photograph and she started laughing in spite of the sadness in her heart.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_Harold Finch watched his friend a few minutes longer, smiling as she hugged the picture frame to her. "Goodbye Danni..." he whispered as he cut the video feed to the studio surveillance camera. Warm hands settled on his shoulders, squeezing them gently in empathy._

_"You didn't have to do that you know."_

_"I did Mr. Reese. To keep up the pretense of 'Harold Drake' would have been prohibitive in time and the risk of Ms. Briggs finding out who we really were too great.”_

_The recluse sighed, reaching up to touch John’s fingers. “I will miss her though.”_

_“What was the picture of?”_

_Finch shifted uncomfortably but as he’d promised to always tell John Reese the truth, he pulled a loose photograph out of his desk and handed it to the op. Four bulky hockey players grinned up at him from the fading colored snapshot; the tallest, a handsome blond young man supported the head of another twentyish year old youth stretched out in their arms._

_He was wearing an overstuffed brown furred costume, sporting huge feet and a wide flat tail sewn out of vinyl. A large red t-shirt with the letters MIT emblazed on the chest was its only clothing. The costume’s head dangled from one hand, it’s vacantly staring eyes and silly, buck-toothed grin facing the camera. The costumed man’s other hand was thrown out to the side, his fingers splayed._

_The mascot performer had thick coke-bottle glasses and a thatch of unruly brown hair tangling about his ears. Even with the uncharacteristic laughing grin, there was no mistaking the performer’s identity. Reese looked at his partner and burst out laughing._

_“Finch? You were Tim the Beaver?”_

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

Although the 'big story' of Lionel and Danni has come to its conclusion, there are still many 'one-shots' rattling around my brain (and a couple of filler scenes for WM) for this couple that I've become so fond of. Expect to see these pop up from time to time in the future.

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on 'Working Man'. I've really enjoyed fleshing out Lionel's character and giving him a self-esteem boost. Fusco is a wonderful medium to work with in fiction and I will most assuredly put him through his paces again.

As to 'formalizing' Danni & Lionel's situation, I'm content to leave things as they are….for now.


End file.
